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K UNITED STATES OE AMERICA. |I 






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FALLIBILITY OF " SPIRITUALISM" 



EXPOSED. 



BY F. O. EWEE. 



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NEW YOEK: 
H. DAYTON, PUBLISHER, 

No. 79 JOHN-STREET. 

1856. 



£-%% Ai 



NOTICE. 



I have thought the following pages of sufficient interest to wax- 
rant their issue in the present form. This publication has been made 
without the knowledge of the Author, who has no opportunity to 
revise or add to it, even if he wished to do so. 

If the editors to whom this pamphlet (by one of the fraternity) is 
sent will give it a perusal, and such notice as they may then deem 
proper, they will add another to the many favors already extended 
to their obedient servant, 

The Publisher. 



CONTENTS. 



Pagh 
Publisher's Notice, 5 

Prefatory, 7 

The Eventful Nights of August 20th and 21st, . 19 

Flown : A Reverie, (a Sequel,) . . . , .59 

Explanatory Sequel, 63 

The Composition of the Eventful Nights, . . .1*1 

Letter from Judge Edmonds, 95 

Letter from W. J. Baner, 9? 

Reply to Judge Edmonds, 98 

The Cook and Bull Story— -"John F. Lane,". . . 105 



PKEFATORY. 



As introductory to the matter which forms the body of 
this publication, and which appeared originally a part in The 
Pioneer, a California monthly, published at San Francisco, 
and edited by F. C. Ewer, and a part in the New- York 
Herald, we feel it to be not inappropriate to review, briefly, 
the phases, philosophy, and moral of " modern spiritual- 
ism." This phenomenal development, originating in its 
first tangible form With the Fox and Fish families, at 
Eochester, N. Y., not more than four or five years ago, has 
already won votaries, and made lunatics in every section 
of the Union, and like many other delusions, long since 
perished, has passed far beyond the boundaries of the 
country and continent that gave it birth. We are not of 
those who think such delusions unworthy of refutation or 
notice. If they were submitted only, and appealed only 
to men and women of sound reason and reflection, we 
might leave these delusions to die the speedy natural death 
to which they would surely be doomed. But they are, 



PREFATORY. 



unfortunately for the peace of the world, in this age of the 
universality of newspapers and cheap publications, scat" 
tered broadcast, and brought to bear upon thousands of 
weak, disordered minds, which, attracted by their novelty 
and mystery, abandon all old faiths, and bow to the new 
idols with the devotion that distinguishes changelings and 
fanatics. 

"Modern spiritualism," of all modern religious delu 
sions, has culminated most rapidly, spread most widely, 
and, we must confess, gained most notable adherents dur- 
ing the same period of time. Its leaders claim that it 
already numbers more than a million believers; it has 
organized itself, established presses for the publication of 
books, magazines, tracts, and newspapers ; it boasts a spe- 
cial literature, interspersed with and fortified by all the 
ghostology of the past ; it has called scientific men to inves- 
tigate it, and learned and pious men to combat it ; it has 
mounted the pulpit, entered the concert-room, tried its 
hand at the drama, and on every hand inspired, seriously 
or for " the fun of the thing," circles, in which the ghosts 
of the dead — from Adam's time to ours — have been made 
to re-visit the earth, teaching of the life that is, and the life 
that is to come ; or rather pretending to reveal those things 
which God has wisely ordered that man shall not know, 
save by imagination, hope, and faith. 

But the rapidity with which this delusion has spread 
has not surprised us. With all its intelligence and pure 
religious zeal, this age is peculiarly an age of speculation, 



PREFATORY. VJ 

diverse creeds, skepticism, and disbelief in religious faith 
that demands, as the good old faiths of our fathers did, 
humiliation or mortification of the flesh. It is an age, also, 
abundant, to an unparalleled extent, in men who would be 
"prophets, priests, and kings," or sect-founders of some 
sort, rather than apply their idle hands and addled brains 
to any humble, practical good work. The materialistic 
spirit of the age, wanting some religion, seized upon this 
new " spiritual" development, as most realizing the mate- 
rialist's idea of God and the spiritual world. It divided 
the spiritual domain between God and man, making it as 
easy for the latter to penetrate the secrets of Heaven, as 
for the former to hold cognizance of the things of earth. 
Besides, it transposed God, or rather inverted him, so that 
man could examine and sit in judgment on the Supreme 
Being, as well as the Supreme Being on Man — and gave 
to God a character and attributes just about such as the 
materialist desires ; God, nearly always, being only an infi- 
nite reflection of the "medium's" normal opinions and faith. 
And still further, it so materialized the spiritual that the 
grossest realist could see the angel, or the " ghost of his 
grandmother," and be satisfied. And thus it " took," be- 
cause it dragged heaven down to earth in palpable form, and 
men and women rushed into its sensually fascinating em- 
brace. All the odds and ends of the religious, social, and 
political world looked to it as a new excitement, on the 
tide of which, by skillful management, they might ride to 
place, profit, or importance of some kind. Anchored to 
1* 



10 PREFATORY. 

nothing else, dropt or cast out from all other useful 
circles, they rushed or were drawn naturally into the 
" modern spiritualism" speculation. 

Here was room for prophets and priests, with no need 
of anointing or consecration ; for the dogma or delusion 
which holds that all religious revelation is alike divine inspi- 
ration, and that the rant and imbecility of whatever " me- 
dium" is as much from God as the utterance of " Moses 
and the prophets " — that A. Jackson Davis's " Nature's 
Divine Eevelations " is good as the Bible, and Davis him- 
self as much a God-chosen seer as Elisha ; or Harris, with 
his rambling, amatory " Epics," as God-inspired as David 
or Isaiah — such a delusion knows and cares for no author- 
ity but the impulse of its votaries, and has no standard of 
truth or morality, but such as is derived from its " me- 
diums" — each medium having peculiar crotchets of faith 
and morality of his own. As set forth in the parable, in the 
Word of God, when Dives asked that Lazarus might be 
sent back to earth to warn the living, the reply was : " They 
have Moses and the prophets ; if they believe not these, 
neither would they believe though one arose from the 
dead." But " modern spiritualism" ignores Moses and 
the prophets, and the whole Bible, as circumstance or con- 
venience requires. 

But, with all its momentary success — with its long list 
of ex-judges, ex-senators, ex-priests, and other eccentric and 
extraordinary converts, this spiritualism is as baseless in 
truth, as the thousand and one lesser delusions that have, 



PREFATORY. 11 

from time to time, through the entire history of the human 
race, excited fractions of mankind, and, living their brief 
day, died out and been forgotten, save as a matter of cu- 
rious record. In our own age, " Mormonism" has sprung 
forth as one of these developments — more triumphant, 
even, than " spiritualism," in that it has taken concrete 
form, and canonized its prophet, placing him and his reve- 
lation high above his sect, making them authoritative in all 
spiritual and temporal affairs ; and also in that its follow- 
ers are a unit in their faith, and have founded a powerful, 
isolate community, already clamoring to become a State 
and a political power in Christendom. " Modern spiritual- 
ism" believes not in Mormonism, nor the latter in the for- 
mer, yet the basis of one is as good as that of the other, 
and l^oth are utterly bad, as outraging Scripture revelation, 
sound reason, and common sense. The ambitious craft of 
Mohammed was fired and tempered by a far nobler inspira- 
tion, and was consequently crowned with far mightier re- 
sults. Any one who will take the time and trouble to 
investigate the history of religious delusions, will find re- 
cord in every age of something parallel, in fanaticism, pre- 
tension, and absurdity, to the spiritualism of our day. 

Just in proportion as the human mind is unsettled from 
the basis of truth in the matter of religion — whether 
through ignorance or skepticism — society is distracted, 
astonished, and amused by turns at the antics of "new- 
religion"-ists. But in contemplating "modern spiritual- 
ism," standing apart from the delusion, one finds more 



12 PREFATORY. 

cause for indignation and sorrow than for astonishment or 
amusement. Indignation at the designing dupers, and sor- 
row for the ignorant dupes. It is a sad picture, indeed, to 
see moral and religious charlatans, in such an age as this, 
leading multitudes to a wreck of all substantial faith, to 
say nothing of thousands driven to lunatic asylums or im- 
pelled to suicide. The serious question arises, is there 
aught that is tolerable, or entitled to a moment's respect, 
in such a system of imposture. What have been its visi- 
ble, practical results ? It has relaxed among its followers, 
or beaten down altogether, the bonds of preservative so- 
cial morality. Individual sovereignty, free-love-ism, spir- 
itual-wife-ism ; that is, the casting off of the legal wife 
for whoever inspires a stronger lust — for that which, for 
earthly gratification, absolves the marriage tie, is not wor- 
thy the name of love, or passion even, — sundered families, 
and wrecked individuality — these are some of the practi- 
cal fruits, of "modern spiritualism." And what is its 
revelation as regards God, man, and the spiritual world ] 
In just so far as it is coherent, and has a spark of reason or 
common sense, it is all "borrowed from the Scriptures. 
Yet the little good it utters has no effect for good, but is 
lost in the mass of blasphemy and absurdity which consti- 
tute the bulk and genius of the new religion. A few cun- 
ning men and women drive a profitable trade by pandering 
to the delusion. It enables them to print and sell books, 
to their own monetary advantage ; to successfully set up as 
doctors and doctresses, whether they kill or cure; to 



PREFATORY. 13 

open "paying" circles, where the curious and credulous 
are niched of their money, and often of their reason ; it 
gives notoriety to men and women, who, failing to figure 
to their hearts' desire in any other sphere, mount up on 
" spiritual" wings into the eye of the community. 

We have watched the operations, studied the so-called 
philosophy, witnessed the " manifestations," and, for experi- 
ment's sake, consulted the most notable " mediums" — hav- 
ing had access to " choice" circles at our pleasure — of the 
"modern spiritualists," and every experience and reflec- 
tion has only the more convinced us of the utter worthless- 
ness of their whole pretensions and teachings — nay, more, 
of their arrant wickedness and immorality. Judge Ed- 
monds's story, furnished by himself to the public press, of 
the spirits of those who were lost in the steamer Arctic 
coming to him from the spiritual world for information 
and advice touching that world, would have inspired con- 
tempt for such a bare-faced presumption of the public's 
utter credulity, bad not a feeling of pity that one holding 
such a position in society could become so influenced by a 
delusion as to evidently have lost his logical senses, risen 
up and plead for him. The intelligent public well said : 
" Poor man ! he is on the high road to idiocy or madness." 
Some laughed at the mingled blasphemy and absurdity of 
the Judge's revelation, but the judicious only grieved. 
Yet Judge Edmonds is the oracle and high-priest of "mod- 
ern spiritualism." He has furnished to the world two oc- 
tavos claiming to have been dictated from the spirit-world 



14 PREFATORY* 

by the ghosts of Lord Bacon, and others erst equally nota- 
ble on earth. It is not necessary for us to say that Lord 
Bacon, Franklin, and all the intellectual spirit-communi- 
cants fall infinitely short in their spirit-world talk, of the 
excellence and good sense they uttered while on earth. It 
is characteristic of the " spiritual" literature, that it is a 
" weak, washy, everlasting flood" — mainly of fantasies and 
nonsense. Judge Edmonds is deferred to, and looked.up 
to, perhaps more than any half-dozen other spiritualist 
leaders combined. His word is accepted as gospel by the 
mass of believers in the delusion. Yet, in this matter, his 
word has been proved worthless, utterly worthless. His 
testimony, claimed by him to have been inspired from the 
spirit-world, and deliberately published, has been invali- 
dated in the most decided manner. If false once, may he 
not be false always % And if the testimony of Judge Ed- 
monds fails, is it not a fair inference that the testimony of 
the whole set or sect may be a fallacy ? It is a remark- 
able fact, that, with all their revelations, the whole frater- 
nity of " mediums " combined are not capable of directly 
answering, correctly, any three of the simplest consecutive 
questions that could be put to them in the form they chal- 
lenge — mentally or in enveloped writing. On all such prac- 
tical tests, involving absolute knowledge and mentality, 
they fail. Or if, by a rare chance, they do not fail, it is 
the result of lucky guess-work. 

In the body of this publication will be found a remarkable 
case in which Judge Edmonds's spiritual prevision was put 



PREFATORY. 15 

on trial, and found wanting. In so far as the Judge revealed, 
it was only a concurrent revelation, but it weighs against 
him perhaps more strongly than would the disproval of 
one of his own original revelations. Mr. Ewer, editor 
of The Pioneer — alluded to at the beginning of these re- 
marks — and a gentleman of no little intellectual ability, 
being moved by a literary and fanciful — some may say 
mischievous inspiration, sat down in his sanctum in San 
Francisco, sometime in the month of August, 1854, and 
very much after the manner of Edgar A. Poe, in some of 
his weird sketches, composed a most remarkable spiritual 
experience — startling and thrilling as a narrative far be- 
yond any " real" experience that we have read or heard of 
in the history of " modern spiritualism." Mr. Ewer had 
to do with spirit, then with " flesh and blood," and then 
again with spirit ; the spirit in the second instance being 
that of the aforesaid "flesh and blood" — named on earth 
"John E. Lane" — which had given up the ghost in the 
mean time. It is a marvellous story — none the less so for 
being a fiction — as the reader will find. Well, when Mr. 
Ewer had fully conjured this fanciful "spiritual" expe- 
rience, entitled, " The Eventful Nights of August 20th and 
21st," he published it in his magazine, The Pioneer. It 
was an adroit and plausible conception, and not difficult to 
be swallowed by any devout spiritualist. In due time 
a number of The Pioneer, containing the experience, 
reached Judge Edmonds through the mails, and he was 
greatly exercised thereby — so much so, that he copied Mr. 



16 PREFATORY. 

Ewer's revelation in his (Edmonds's) magazine, The Sa- 
cred Circle, then published in New- York, and wrote to 
Mr. Ewer, stating that he had thus copied, and adding that 
he (Edmonds) had had several interviews with the (defunct 
fictitious) hero of the narrative, "John F. Lane." There- 
upon Mr. Ewer wrote to the New- York Herald, giving an 
expose of the manner in which Judge Edmonds had been 
duped by him, (Ewer,) or rather, showing that the Judge's 
pretended visions, like all the other pretensions of " mod- 
ern spiritualism," were worthless of belief. 

The truth is, there was no John F. Lane, (except in Mr. 
Ewer's fancy,) and, of course, no John F. Lane's ghost. 
The public laughed prodigiously at Judge Edmonds's pre- 
dicament, which made him flounder into the newspapers, 
where, at every turn, he only made his case more ludicrous 
and pitiable. There is various interesting correspondence 
appended to the " Experience," and a letter of request for 
publication of the whole matter preceding it — addressed to 
Mr. Ewer by a number of the most eminent citizens of 
San Francisco. We have thought — not only on account 
of the strong evidence this case furnishes of the fallibility, 
fallacy, and falsehood of modern spiritualistic pretensions, 
but also for the exceedingly interesting intrinsic character 
of Mr. Ewer's " Experience," that the matter entire would 
not be unattractive, nor without good influence issued in a 
more permanent form. Hence this publication. We 
might prefatorily have entered into a much more extended 
and serious argument against " spiritualism," the daily 



PREFATORY. 17 

development of which* accumulates evidence of its gross- 
ness as an imposture, its immorality as a system of faith 
and practice, and its wickedness as a machinery in the 
hands of the designing, to delude, corrupt, and use the 
weak-minded, ignorant, and superstitious. But we have 
preferred rather to glance at the monstrosity in a general 
way, leaving its elaborate discussion and its exposure in 
detail, to the caustic and powerful pens of Professor Mahan 
and others, who have flayed and scarified it in volumes 
that are before the public. We feel certain that no reader 
of the "Eventful Nights" will regret the money or time 
spent in the perusal, or will rise from the reading with a 
more favorable impression of the " modern spiritualism" 
delusion. 



THE EYENTFUL NIGHTS 



AUGUST 20th AND 21st. 



I am about to undertake a task, — here in the silence of 
this room,— to which I feel impelled by a combination of 
circumstances, such as I believe never surrounded mortal 
man before. I am hurried to its accomplishment, to the 
unburdening of my mind, from certain strange intelligence, 
not only on account of an express order, which I have 
received, the nature and particulars of which will more 
fully appear below, but because I feel that I can only 
relieve my mind from its insufferable weight by laying 
before the public the occurrences of the last two nights. 

I am in a house on McAllister street, between Hyde 
and Larkin. The room in which I am seated contains 
little furniture, save a poor bed, a large pine- table, one of 
smaller dimensions, and a chair. The paper I write on — 
this is the second night I have been here — I was compelled 
to bring with me, together with the pen, ink, and candle. 
At every whisper of the breeze, as it sighs among the 
bushes outside, I shudder and look around me, where lies 



20 THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS, ETC. 

the body of a man whom I knew not until yesterday — yet 
to whom I feel bound by a spell such as I never experi- 
enced before. And yet I know that all is over and quiet 
now. The hush of silent death is in this room ; and I can 
distinctly hear my own breathing and that of a little child 
— she tells me her name is Jane — who is sitting on a box 
at the foot of the bed, and who, although young, is just old 
enough to realize that she is stricken by an awful calamity, 
and yet knows not whether the more to be amazed or 
grieved. At times she will come to my side, and the tears 
will rise into her eyes ; but at a word from me, she will 
check them, return to the dead body of her parent, and 
there gaze into the cold, still face, silently and with a 
mingled expression of awe and uncertainty. She, too, has 
been a witness of the events of the past forty-eight hours, 
and now that she is .at last left alone, she clings to me 
instinctively for protection — she knows not from what, nor 
why. May God give me health and strength to support 
her, and guide her in the uncertain ways of the dark 
future. 

She had just stolen quietly to me, put her little arms 
about my neck, and said : 

"What are you writing, sir? Come with me. I am 
very lonesome. Come with me to father and make him 
talk." 

I kissed her upon her fair white forehead, and said : 

"Hush, child ! Father will not speak to us any more 
to-night. You shall go with me to-mor:row, and we'll 
take father with us." 

I led her back to her seat, and turned quickly, for the 
tears were gushing to my eyes. But I must hasten to my 
recital. 

I shall endeavor to state the plain facts, as they occurred, 



THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS, ETC. 21 

as briefly and in as simple a style as possible. For I find 
that it is already half-past two in the morning, and I feel 
quite exhausted from the excitement I have passea through. 
In bringing these facts before the public, I am aware that I 
shall subject myself to the taunts of the street, and be 
pointed at by the world as one of the "insane dupes of the 
spiritual rappers," — and nothing but an imperative sense 
of duty (mistaken, it may be thought by some) urges me 
to submit myself to such an ordeal. 

I will not (at least upon this occasion) go into the ration- 
ale of "spiritualism." The public are already sufficiently- 
acquainted with the modes in which the "manifestations" 
are given, to understand thoroughly all I shall have to say. 
I will not speak of the singular facts of " odism," which 
have been established by Eeichenbach and Liebig, with a 
clearness only less satisfactory than that with which the 
truths of electricity are proven. I will not state that no 
evidence of the odic fluid can be discovered in paralyzed 
limbs ; I will not speak of the supposition, therefore, of 
the above-named physicists, that as mind can not act direct- 
ly on matter, and as it is impossible by an effort of mind 
to move a paralyzed limb, the odic fluid may be the con- 
dition necessary to lie between the mind and the arm or 
foot (which are matter) to account for the mysterious 
effect of the will in moving our bodies. The relation of 
these facts and suppositions is not at all necessary to a 
clear understanding of my story. 

Night before last, (the nineteenth of August,) after I had 
retired and extinguished my candle, I was surprised, on 
laying my head upon my pillow, at discovering a pale, 
bluish brush of light at the other side of the room, appa- 
rently hovering over a portion of a tea-poy, on which is 
a Parian statuette of Venus, one or two daguerreotypes, a 



22 THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS, ETC. 

small pearl cross, and several other little matters of orna- 
ment. I was struck by the suddenness with which the 
light ceased to waver as I directed my attention to it. I 
started up, but immediately came to the conclusion that 
the strange appearance resulted from a diseased retina — 
(my eyes have been affected for the past six months.) I 
looked away, supposing, of course, that if the apparition 
could be traced to the cause mentioned, it would display 
itself wherever I gazed. This, however, I found not to be 
the case. And as I looked again towards the tea-poy, 
I thought I heard a series of faint tickings. Determined 
to have my curiosity satisfied, I arose and advanced 
towards the apparition. The tickings here grew more 
active. I re-lighted the candle ; there was, however, no 
unusual appearance about the stand. But I soon found 
that the sounds proceeded from a small pocket-compass 
that was lying thereon. I opened it, and the needle was 
trembling and vibrating quite violently over N. Soon the 
north pole moved round to the south-west, and back again ; 
and so on, three distinct times — each time pausing a 
moment at N., trembling violently, then sweeping round 
and reaching the S. W. point with a jerk. Thinking this 
a very singular circumstance, I hurriedly threw on some 
clothes, and sat down to watch it. After a pause, and 
while my eyes were directed intently upon the needle, it 
moved slowly round again, reaching the south-west point 
with a jerk, — repeating this three times, and then stopping. 
It seemed to me to act almost with intelligence ; and I in- 
voluntarily uttered, — "What does this mean 1 ?'' To my 
surprise — for I was a firm disbeliever in any thing like 
"spiritualism" — the needle, as though in answer to my 
ejaculation, made a rapid circuit entirely round the card, 
passed the north point, and resting for an instant at south 



THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS, ETC. 23 

west, or rather over the fifty-first degree point- returned 
slowly and steadily to its place at north. 

I now (half ashamed of myself) commenced a series of 
questions in whisper. Yet, although the needle seemed to 
act intelligently, I could not discover what was the nature 
of the information (if any) intended to be conveyed, and 
why, after each series of unsuccessful questions and 
answers, it swept with more and more vigor to south, 
fifty-one degrees west; and at length I reluctantly re- 
tired. 

Last evening, about ten o'clock, I received a note, 
written in pencil, which, I was told, had been left for me 
by a little girl. It was brief, but exceedingly urgent in a 
request — nay, it was almost a command — that I should 
go out to the house of the writer, Mr. John F. Lane. 
It stated that I need fear nothing, but should start imme- 
diately upon its reception, bringing with me paper, a pen, 
and candles. 

I learned that the little girl could not read, but by 
showing the superscription of the note containing only 
my name, had at last succeeded in finding the locale of my 
apartment on Kearny street. But she had gone, and I 
could therefore learn nothing of the nature of the riddle 
from her. 

I can not tell how, but by some strange intuition, I asso- 
ciated unconsciously the note, with its singular request, 
its lack of any cue by which I could discover why my 
presence was required in a desolate and lonely part of the 
city at the dead hour of night, with the singular occurrence 
of the compass the night before. The only bond'of con- 
nection between them, it is true, was the unexplained 
mystery that hung around both. But the human mind 
often finds itself at conclusions without any known steps 



24 



THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS, ETC 



by which it could have arrived at them, whose subsequent- 
ly ascertained correctness staggers reason, and leads to the 
belief that there are mental processes and strange sym- 
pathies and connections in nature whose character and 
depths are to be sought for in the Infinite God alone. At 
length, however, I became convinced that some villain was 
working upon my curiosity, to intrap me among the sand- 
hills and rob me ; and I determined not to go, and to pay 
no heed to the affair at all. But I could not drive the 
subject from my mind, and at last I deliberately resolved, 
come what would, to go out to the spot designated, and 
solve the mystery. For precaution's sake, I relieved 
myself of my watch and purse, put my pistol in my pocket, 
and procured a lantern, before sallying forth. 

At the corner of Kearny and Sacramento streets I met 
two of my friends — Mr. H. and Dr. L. Mr. H. asked 
me where I was going in that Diogenes style. In response, 
I related the circumstance of the note, and my determina- 
tion to see the end of the affair. The two expressed their 
willingness to accompany me, and we proceeded together. 
It was then half-past eleven o'clock. We passed without 
molestation to the corner of Sutter and Mason streets, 
and thence struck off in a diagonal direction over the sand- 
hills toward Yerba Buena Cemetery. Contrary to our 
expectations, our devious walk to McAllister street was 
undisturbed, save by the occasional barking of a dog. 
When we reached the corner of what we found on inquiry 
at a neighboring house to be Hyde and McAllister streets, 
one of my friends called my attention to a noise that ■ 
sounded like a faint groan. We approached in the direc- 
tion whence it came, and found ourselves nearing a small 
house that stands on the north side of the road, just before 
you come to Larkin street. This was the house designated 



THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS, ETC. 25 

in the note. I rapped at the door, and the little girl, who 
answered the call immediately, said : 

"Father wants you to come in." 

Mr. Lane, who was lying upon the bed, reached forth 
his hand in welcome ; but was evidently surprised on see 
ing Mr. H. and the Doctor following me into the room. 
After apologizing for not having chairs enough for us, he 
called me to the bed-side and stated that he knew I must 
have been surprised at receiving his note ; that he was too 
weak to write more ; that he had told Jane to see me in 
person, but that she, becoming alarmed at her long absence 
from him and at the lateness of the hour, had hastened 
back without obeying his instruction. He said that it was 
very kind of me to take so much trouble, but that he was 
a dying man, and had information of importance to impart 
to me. 

"But, my dear sir," said I, "something must be done 
for you. Fortunately, one of my friends is a physician," 
— and I called Doctor L. to the bed-side. 

Mr. Lane was evidently in the last stages of consumption. 
In fact, the Doctor told me in a whisper, that it was too 
late ; that nothing could be done, and that his end was 
very near. 

He overheard us and said that he knew all; that nothing 
remained for him but to fulfill a duty to me and to the 
world. Before proceeding to the business before us, he 
told me briefly, his previous circumstances ; his early edu- 
cation, which was liberal ; his poverty, and the fact that 
his little child — this patient, sweet little Jane, who, 
exhausted with watching, has laid her head in my lap and 
sunk, at last, into a slumber — would by his death be left 
alone in the world. He besought me, with tears in his 
eyes, to watch over her when he was gone, and see that 



26 THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS, ETC. 

she did not suffer. He did not care about her being poor. 
He expected she would have to work. He did not wish 
her to be a burden to rne. But, oh ! he prayed that I would 
guide her footsteps away from sin and its influences ; that 
I would instill into her a love of purity, and so guard her, 
that she would grow to womanhood, an honor to herself 
and a blessing to those around her. I drew little Jane to 
me, kissed her, and satisfied the dying man by promising 
solemnly that I would do my utmost to comply with his 
last wish. 

His mind was then apparently relieved from its only 
care, and he turned his attention to the business before 
us. 

" My friend," said he, " I must premise my remarks 
by stating that I am a firm believer in the great doctrine 
of the present century ; that we have at last reached that 
momentous period, when the spirits of the departed can, 
through the medium of a principle newly discovered, com- 
municate their thoughts and wishes to mortals upon earth. 
I have been led to this belief by the surest of all processes 
— personal experience. When I am alone and find a table 
moving under my passive hands — moving intelligently — 
moving in such a maimer as to give me information of 
events which are happening in the distant East, and 
which I subsequently find to have occurred exactly as 
stated through this mysterious agency, — nay more, when 
I feel a nameless sensation — half chill, half tremor — run- 
ning through my whole body, apparently penetrating to 
the innermost recesses of my brain, and find my arm and 
hand moved over the paper beneath it by some influence 
which I can not convince myself is not foreign, — when I 
find my hand writing strange, grand thoughts, such as I 
never conceived of before — such as at times it takes me 



THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS, ETC. 27 

days thoroughly to understand, — when I close my eyes 
and so divest myself of attention, that I know nothing, 
except that my hand is moving, and when I find afterwards 
thoughts worthy of the angels, penned, I can not but be- 
lieve we are upon the threshold of one of the most event- 
ful changes that ever occurred upon the surface of the 
earth. Geology has told us of mighty epochs in the far 
past history of the world. Look back, my friends. Re- 
member that whole races of the animal and vegetable 
kingdoms have been swept away — that whole periods of 
the world have moved into the still past, leaving their 
history legible to the mind of a subsequent period on the 
everlasting rocks and strata. Remember that whole con- 
tinents have gone grandly down and been swallowed up 
in the depths of ocean ; that whole oceans have swayed in 
volumes around the earth — from pole to pole, from the 
Orient to the Occident. If we stand amazed, as we con- 
template the mighty changes that rest entombed in the 
past, ever receding from us, is it unreasonable to suppose 
that other changes equally momentous are approaching 
the world from the future ? Oh ! deceive yourselves not ; 
for mankind tread toppling upon the verge of a tremendous 
epoch ; that in which Finity can speak to Infinity,— that 
in which the greatest seal shall be broken, and the secrets 
of hereafter whispered from strange intelligences to man ! 
I know it — I know — know." 

Mr. Lane here sank back upon his pillow, exhausted. 

I had stood rapt in wonder and admiration, as I listen- 
ed to such sentences coming from a man apparently so 
humble in life. The shadow of death stretching up to 
meet him seemed almost to inspire him. The deliberate 
enunciation with which the remarks were uttered, coupled 
with the soul-felt earnestness with which he spoke, im- 



28 THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS, ETC. 

pressed us all ; and for a moment we stood at the bed-side, 
gazing with rapt attention at that pale face, with its spirit- 
ual expression and its closed eyes. The eyelids seemed 
to me so thin, as to be powerless to conceal the large jet- 
black eyes within, which almost appeared to be displayed 
through them. 

I know not how long our silence would have lasted, had 
not the Doctor called my attention to the fact, that the 
last struggle of mind had hastened the dying man towards 
his dissolution ; and that if he had any important infor- 
mation to communicate, we must be brief. 

I looked again, and the. large, black eyes were upon us ; 
they seemed larger and blacker than any I had ever 
beheld before ; and Mr. Lane continued : 

" I wish this conversation recorded. At first, I regret- 
ted that you had brought your friends with you ; but I am 
glad that you have done so, as one of them can be of serv- 
ice to us." 

I then took the writing materials which I had brought, 
and after recording, as nearly as I could recollect, the re- 
marks set down above, I delivered them to Mr. H., who 
moved the large table into the centre of the room, and 
proceeded to take the notes which now lie before me, 
without whose assistance I should have great difficulty in 
preparing these remarks for the press. 

Mr. Lane resumed : 

" As I have told you, I am not only a believer in spirit- 
ualism, but am a medium myself. Four days ago, I was 
informed, by one of the spirits, that he desired me to pro- 
cure some gentleman either connected with the press, or 
to whom the columns of some paper were open, to be 
with me during my last moments — that what should 
occur at our interview would be of importance. I knew 



THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS, ETC. 29 

none of the editors. I had heard, however, that you had 
devoted several months to the investigation of spiritual- 
ism, previously to which time you were atheistically 
inclined. The fact that an atheist should have looked 
into this matter, with any degree of assiduity, convinced 
me that you were a candid man, open to conviction. Was 
I rightly informed with regard to your previous tenets, 
and your investigations % " 

I answered in the affirmative. 

" I am surprised, then, that you have not exercised 
your advantages, by publishing some of the extraordi- 
nary proofs of the science. I suppose you have recovered 
from your atheism, and that you are somewhat of a 
believer in spiritualism 1 " 

I responded that, with regard to the former, I was still 
quite skeptical, and inclined to a belief in materialism ; 
and as for the latter, that my earnest investigations had 
only led me to the conclusion that it was an unmitigated 
humbug, so far as any spiritual agency was concerned. 

Mr. Lane appeared astonished, and after a pause, asked 
me if I had any objection to remaining with him, and 
awaiting the result. I told him that I certainly had 
none. 

At his request the small table was then drawn quite 
near the head of the bed. Mr. Lane, who was lying 
upon his back, stretched forth his thin, white hand, placed 
it, with the palm downwards, upon the side nearest to 
him, and then closed his eyes as though he were settling 
himself for death. I sat at the end towards the foot of 
the bed, and was in such a position that I could see his 
face distinctly. The Doctor and Jane were at the oppo- 
site side of the bed, while Mr. H. was seated at the table 
in the centre of the room. After a pause the table tipped 



30 THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS, ETC. 

toward me, lifting Mr. Lane's hand. We all remained in 
silence, during wliich the dying man appeared to be put- 
ting mental questions ; to which the table answered. At 
length, he stated that the spirit desired to transmit a 
written communication. Paper and a pencil were pro- 
cured. The sick man's hand was moved very gently, but 
the paper moved with it. I then secured the sheet with 
my hand, and the first communication was as follows, 
namely : 

" The time is ripe. The great truth has entered into 
the circle of the world silently, and powerfully, — as the 
' still small voice.' There is sublimity in its silence. 
And thus it appeals to man. We can not trumpet forth 
the truth. For voice is not to us, as hearing is to you. 
We appeal to you through sublimity, and silence, and an 
unheard, though felt power. Behold, how the great 
change has manifested itself in every city, and town, and 
hamlet in America ! This is one of the great voices of 
your great country. She announces the glad tidings, 
crying : ' The gates of death are open, the ladder of Jacob 
is reared, aud angel voices are ascending — descending — 
from us to them — from them to us ! ' We are hovering 
above and around and among your republic of thought. 
It was the fitting field. Had the seed dropped too early, 
or upon the unenlightened, it would not have fructified. 
Years were to roll. Years have rolled. The intellectual 
soil was at last prepared^ and the sowers joyfully went 
forth. At first, the great change broke slowly upon man. 
It was right. There must have been doubters. But the 
truth is mighty and prevails. The spiritualists are num- 
bered by hundreds of thousands. And thus as it is, that 
the seed has taken root sufficiently for permanence and 
ever-growth, spite of all calamity of skepticism and ridicule, 



THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS, ETC. 31 

it is right that you should advance one step further. At- 
tend ! The meaning of death is the mission of this inter- 
view. Then mayst thou indeed exclaim, ' Where is thy 
sting, and O grave, where is thy victory !' Attend, 
while the passing spirit performs his privilege and his 
high duty." 

Mr. Lane's hand then ceased moving. The whole was 
calculated to render us breathless. After a pause I re- 
marked, that the solemnity of this time would not, I freely 
confessed, permit me to doubt the honesty of the dying 
man. But I ventured to ask the spirit, if spirit it was, 
whether he would not give us some certain proof of the 
genuineness of the communication as a spiritual message. 

Mr. Lane's hand immediately traced the following : 

" Willingly. The whole shall be in itself a test. For 
true it is, that one of the first elements of success in this 
new movement is, that you believe. Mr. Lane shall hold a 
conversation with you prior to, during and after death, in 
which he will give you his experience of death, and the 
facts and scenes, so to speak, to which he first awakes, 
after the heart has ceased to beat. Farewell." 

I willingly dispelled doubt from my mind, and was foi 
a time lost in thought at the solemn import of the spirit's 
message. The silence was only broken by the low sob- 
bing of this dear little creature, exhausted, and pale, and 
scantily clad, who, thank Heaven, has forgotten her afflic- 
tion for a time in sweet slumber. Her dreamy eyes have 
seized upon my heart. Ah ! what a shadow within them 
lies ! Will she live to womanhood ? Oh ! will she always 
love and trust me, with all my faults'? Well-a-day! 
At length, as I gazed into the emaciated face upon the 
pillow before me, the lids opened — the large black eyes 
turned upon me, and with a faint voice he said : 



32 THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS, ETC. 

" I am sinking — sinking — " 

His eyes then turned upon Jane with a gaze of sadness, 
then rolled slowly round to me again. The look was 
enough. I leaned toward him, and assured him with a 
low voice that henceforth she should be my daughter. 
The little thing ran round to me and fell upon my breast, 
sobbing violently. 

" And now," said he, faintly, and with pauses between 
his sentences, " I am ready to die. I feel that it is good. 
It grows dim — dim — dim. I am losing earth — losing 
you all. I know that I live. It — it is a solemn passage 
— but what, I know not. Are you here ? Touch me — 
touch me — that I may know that I live." 

I pressed my hand gently upon his as it lay upon the 
table before me. Jt was cold. 

" Are you — are you here ? Can you not touch me ?" 

I stooped over him and whispered into his ear that his 
hand was in mine. 

" In mine? — in mine? There is no angel here. What 
was it whispered? I am in no one's keeping. I am pass- 
ing — Oh!" said he, making a faint effort to rise, " Oh! that 
I could stay ! Janie — Janie — that — that this solemn jour- 
ney were but over." 

Exhaustion succeeded, and for a moment he ceased 
breathing. I quietly re-spread his hand upon the table, 
and resumed my seat. 

"I seem hovering — I know not where. No one is 
around me — no one comes to me to lift me on through 
this solemn gloom. I hear nothing — solitary — solitary hi 
this fearful way. This is — indeed — the valley — of the 
shadow of death. Where are they, my friends of the 
future? Is this death? Is this the future? Is the 
spirit theory then untrue?" at last he cried in despair. 



THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS, ETC. 33 

"And am I — am I to live thus — thus ? Oh ! the fearful 
hell of an eternal existence alone! — no, sight — no hear- 
ing — no God — no heaven — (as I had been told) — no light 
— Great God ! no darkness ! all thought ! My soul is 
consuming — consuming itself! Can I live thus for ever 1 ? 
— Oh ! for annihilation ! for any thing but this solitude ! 
Why can I not peer through this gloom % Horror ! hor- 
ror ! — where are these limbs of mine 1 — I feel not my body 
around me ! Oh ! lost at length — lost to the green earth 
— and to my Janie — lost to the sweet harmony of com- 
panionship ! The past, gone, — the future, a blank ! — 
Great eternity, am I a God ? — am I creative ] — will a 
world spring at my thought % Yes, I create — but it is 
thought alone — for that is of my own essence. I must be 
dead. If you are here and I am not yet dead — tell Janie 
I will try Midi seek her, — I know not how. Tell the world 
that in death the spirit is fearfully and for ever alone ! — 
Tell the world that death is terrib — " 

The nervous twitching about the under jaw stopped ; 
and from the very instant when he ceased to articulate, I 
was startled by finding the table slowly rising and lean- 
ing toward the bed. And as the jaw dropped and the 
strange shadow of death swept down like a curtain over 
his face, the table rose quickly and pressed firmly and 
steadily against the bed-side, as though it were attracted 
towards the dead body by an immense power. 

We were all now around him. The Doctor, who was 
on the side opposite to us, slowly laid the right hand, 
which he had been holding during the dying scene, -upon 
the breast, and we remained gazing awe-struck at this 
strange death. I believe that, for a moment, my heart 
actually ceased beating. There was an oppressive pause, 
which must have lasted at least five minutes. During 



34 THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS, ETC. 

all this time the table maintained its inclined position, and 
we still stood speechless — almost breathless. At length 
we were awakened from our trance by finding the table 
quietly descending to the floor. It then commenced tip- 
ping on two of its legs with a gentle rocking motion. I 
know not why, but I shuddered at the thought of break- 
ing the death-like silence, so I took up the pencil and 
wrote : 

" Will you finish what you were saying ?" 
Imagine our terror at seeing the dead arm and hand 
which had been lying on the table, strike into rigidity, as 
though it were a piece of mechanism pulled by wires, 
rise slowly from the table and move toward me. "When 
it had reached within a few inches of me, like lightning it 
darted forth and down upon my hand in which I was still 
holding the pencil. Its fingers grasped suddenly and 
tightly around mine. The touch was as of an icicle. A 
nameless thrill and terror seized me. Mr. H. fell back ; 
— and slowly the locked hands before me moved across 
the paper. The dead hand was so tracing the words that 
1 could read them. They were upside down to itself. The 
following was the 

RESPONSE. 

" No, — not that death is terrible. The silence and the 
solitude were the dying — not death! Tell them that it was 
a fearful, silent passage to me and those before me. But 
that it shall be so no longer in secula seculorum! Silent 
and strange — yes. But fearful — no. It was terrible, and 
has been terrible from its uncertainty. Every spirit hath 
known not, when it feels that it has at length lost earth, 
but it was doomed to silence and solitude for ever! The 
struggle to know what it is, the futile efforts to see — to 



THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS, ETC. 35 

hear, — followed by the great, all-absorbing consciousness 
and conviction, that it is simply an existence, are fearful ! 
But let the living listen ! Hereafter, let those that die 
be content to pause through the change ; — for the solitude 
lasts but a moment, when the dormant spirit gradually 
developes. Then, there was nothing around it ; — now it 
knows itself and that into which it enters." 

" Are you in the midst of spirits'?" I asked aloud; and 
my voice seemed to resound unnaturally through the felt 
silence of the room. 

RESPONSE. 

" I had lost you for a time. I could see and hear no- 
thing. I almost forgot the circumstances of my death. 
But then, I was not dead. Slowly a sensation of lightness 
came over me, and I remembered all. I knew you all. I 
felt calm. I saw your motions as of something apart 
from me — very much as you look down through clear 
water and watch the motions of the strange monsters of 
the deep, whose element is different from your3, — 
whose actions are sometimes strange and unaccountable, — 
with whom you have nothing in common." 

Here was a pause again for about five minutes, daring 
which the cold, dead hand relaxed from around mine. At 
length, I asked again: 

" Are you in the midst of spirits 1" 

The strange, invisible wires were pulled again, —for 
the blue death-fingers tightened around my own, aiid the 
locked hands traced the following 



" I found myself gradually taking form — and moving 
through a long, grand, misty, undulating arch-way, ta 



36 THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS, ETC. 

wards a harmony, as it were, of far-off music. All was 
indefinite. I felt the intense consciousness of my own 
existence — nothing more. At length, clearer and clearer 
I understood the new universe into which I was entering, 
and a part of which I formed. I was alone. I heard no 
voice. But as I swept through the arch, I said as it were 
distinctly to myself this strange word, 'Forms.' At 
length it changed to ' Forms — Motion.' After I had 
swept on still farther, it changed to ' Forms — Motion — 
Harmony.' And then after a pause, to ' Forms — Motion 
— Harmony — The Arch.' Why I repeated them I know 
not. Soon I was, as it were, uttering ' Forms — Motion 
— Harmony — The Arch — Connection.' At length the 
word ' Beauty ' was added ; and finally I found myself 
repeating over and over again : 

" ' Forms — Motion — Harmony — The Arch — Connec- 
tion — Beauty — Eternity — Eternity — Eternity ! ' 

" I knew not what it could mean. I know now. I will 
tell you more to-morrow night. I thought, and those 
in the flesh think, that all they conceive of, is every thing 
that exists, save God and the disembodied spirits. Hence 
they call it the ' universe.' I find myself now forming 
a part of a second universe ; as I have formed unknown 
through all ages. All have lived and shall live for ever. 
I know it in the dim distance. You are immortal as 
truly in th« past, as you shall be in the future. Finity at 
the beginning must lead to finity at the end, and as you 
shall live for ever, so have you lived for ever : for your 
life is infinite. I will explain to-morrow night. Your 
first stage was non-self-sentient. Peer not into the past. 
It will not advance His great living. Look to the 
future. You are wearied. Remember Janie — see, she 
sits weeping. Farewell." 



THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS, ETC. 37 

" But are you in the midst of spirits f* cried I. 

RESPONSE. 

" Oh, wonderful — wonderful ! — Oh, altogether inexpli- 
cable ! As you may suppose the rose unto her leaves, — as 
you may suppose music unto the consciousness of man, 
— as you may suppose the harmonies, and ever crossing, 
and unheard, and dimly understood converse always going 
on between the elements of a landscape — the cascade 
and the rocks — the liquid water-ripples and the shore — 
the forest and the sunbeams, — so do the hosts of the new 
universe around me hold communion with each other,. 
Direct, not impeded — silent, and dreamily beautiful and 
sublime ! As different from the converse of man with 
man, as is color from weight. Remember Janie — see, 
she sits weeping. Adieu !" 

" But I am not weary — I am not weary" cried I, 
quickly. " More — more /" 

We asked and asked again for one more response — 
but one. The spirit had, however, left us. I wished to 
know if they experienced the passage of time in the other 
world. But not one word could we obtain. At the 
word " adieu," the dead hand fell off from mine. The 
clock struck three, — and, bewildered with the strange 
occurrences of the night, and intoxicated with excitement, 
I staggered out into the air. My friends soon joined me. 

I will not say — I need not say — that for us there was 
no sleep that night. As I have remarked above, I stag- 
gered, bewildered, from the room into the open air, 
where I was followed by the Doctor and Mr. H. Not a 
word was uttered. In the awfulness of the occasion each 
seemed to respect the other's feelings. Great, silent 



38 THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS, ETC. 

waves of thought had rolled upon us out of profound 
death. And the majesty of the new universe, from 
whose solemn depths a soul had just now whispered to us, 
as it pressed down and around me with painful reality 
and grandeur, overwhelmed and stupefied me. Where 
was the invisible spirit, upon whom its sublimity had 
just burst % The great liquid eyes, forth from which he 
had looked upon us, were glazed now, and set. Where 
was the soul? — could it be here, standing, silent, at my 
side, and gazing serenely upon me % Whence had issued 
those strange whispers — those fragments of knowledge % 
There, in the room, were the arm and the hand that had 
traced the thoughts, relaxed, and left by us in our bewil- 
derment outstretched upon the table. But where was the 
spirit, that had stirred it from without? Where was 
the spirit? Fled — fled into those unknown, strange 
regions, whither we all shall go ! Fled ! Yet coexistent, 
co-knowing, co-working with us. I burned to learn of 

the NEW UNIVERSE. 

While we stood in the still, dark night, thus rapt in 
thought, — with the stars looking down from afar, — with 
the invisible wind sighing around us — we knew not where, 
— with the great city of the dead before us, where glim- 
mered faintly in the starlight the white tombstones of the 
unnumbered departed, — and with the lowly, silent hall of 
death behind us, whence another spirit had just now 
lifted and sped, — as we stood thus rapt in thought, a 
soft hand stole into mine, and I felt upon my fingers the 
pressure of a gentle kiss. I looked, and it was Jane. 
She was kneeling at my feet — kneeling upon the damp 
ground, and weeping. In her desolation, sweet child, 
she had left the dead, to cling to the living. She had 



THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS, ETC* 39 

silently singled me out from the rest, -with an instinct that 
knows no premeditation. 

" Janie, my dear child," said I, " let us return to father." 

I lifted her into my arms, and she clasped her little 
hands around my neck, and laid her head upon my breast, 
and wept — wept bitterly. I need not say that my own 
tears were flowing full and fast, and dropping and min- 
gling with hers. 

We moved slowly along towards the silent room, 
and, as we entered, Mr. H. passed noiselessly to the mys- 
terious bed-side, and disposed the body decently. 

We stood gazing upon it for a time in silence; and 
then, recollecting ourselves, consulted in a low voice 
upon our position. 

For us to inform our acquaintances with what had pass- 
ed, was not to be thought of. We should have had the 
town upon us in an hour. We had received no instruc- 
tions, but the sentence, " I will tell you more to-morrow 
night," clearly indicated what was expected from us. At 
last, it was decided that Mr. H. should remain with the 
body during the day, (it was now nearly four o'clock in 
the morning,) while the Doctor, and myself should return 
to our respective duties in the city. To prevent inquiry, 
it was thought best that Jane should stay with Mr. H. 
And we agreed to- meet here to-night — or rather, last 
night, (for it is now nearly daylight of the 22d,) at eight 
o'clock, punctually. The preliminaries being arranged, 
the Doctor and myself took our silent way across the hills 
toward the city, while Mr. H. bowed farewell to us from 
the door, with little Janie in his arms looking tearfully 
after us. 

Oh ! the long, weary hours, that dragged, leaden- 
footed, until night ! It seemed to me that sunset would 



40 THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS, ETC. 

never come. Need I say that the Doctor and myself, 
although we separated at six in the morning, could not 
remain apart? The imperative call of duty summoned 
me at ten to my desk in the Custom-House ; and 
when I went in, I found him there waiting for me. Our 
eyes met, but not one allusion was made to the occur- 
rences of the previous night. Each felt intensely the 
other's knowledge. A mysterious spell bound us together. 
I dared not have him stay, lest remark should be excited ; 
and yet I could not bear to have him leave. And so, 
he lingered all day. Now and then we would steal a 
word together. But, oh! need I say, what an effort it 
caused me to attend to the details of my desk, and to 
talk cheerfully and carelessly of the trivial events of the 
morning 1 — oh ! so trivial they seemed to me, beneath 
the shadow of the great event that had towered about me 
in a night ! No, I will pass all this. Suffice it to say, 
evening came. And at half-past seven we were at the 
threshold of the darkened chamber. I entered — with 
Janie in my arms ; — for she had watched for us from the 
edge of the window-curtain, and tad run out to meet us, 
chiding me sweetly and artlessly for my long delay. 

With the exception of a little more neatness in the 
arrangement of the simple furniture of the room, every 
thing was as we had left it, even to the small pine table at 
the head of the bed. 

Well, the momentous hour had arrived. The solemn 
arcana of hereafter were to transpire. I know not why, 
but we hesitated at meeting the great intelligence, and we 
lingered in conversation at least an hour, before we pre- 
pared to receive those communications, which we knew 
were in store for us. We re-read those we had already 
received : 



THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS, ETC. 41 

" Mr. Lane shall hold a conversation with you prior to, during, 
and after death, — in which he will give you his experience of death, 
and the facts and scenes, so to speak, to which he first awakes, after 
the heart shall cease to beat." 

He had only given us a part of his experience of death, 
and to-night, then, he would finish the recounting of his 
solemn, solitary passage through the shadowy valley, and 
open to your view, in language, the structure and ap- 
pearance of the new universe. Where was this uni- 
verse ? What manner of beings were the spirits 1 What 
was their form — their destiny 1 ? Did they increase in 
knowledge ? That must "be so, for the soul had declared 
it. How then was the paradox to be explained, of a spirit 
living on for ever — for ever increasing in knowledge — 
for ever — for ever — and yet never equalling the changeless 
God! 

At length we took our seats around the table at the 
head of the bed, and placed our hands upon it. For fif- 
teen minutes we remained in silent expectation, but re- 
ceived no manifestations of the spirit's presence. This 
was strange. It was, however, suggested, that Mr. Lane's 
hand was not upon the table ; and that possibly this might 
be the reason of our want of success. But the body had 
become stiff, and the hand, when outstretched, slowly 
arose from the table, and returned to its place upon the 
breast. We then held it down ; and soon found that the 
odic fluid (if fluid it be) was penetrating it : or, at any 
rate, that the arm and hand were becoming limber. 
Another fifteen minutes elapsed without result. The 
table neither tipped, nor manifested any disposition to 
slide, or even stir. . The only indication we had received 
thus far was a single rap, which startled us by its loudness 
and brevity. Finally, in the silence of almost hopeless 



42 THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS, ETC. 

expectation, and as a last resort, I resumed the pencil, and, 
without saying any thing to my friends, lifted the dead 
hand, placed it around my own in the position it had as- 
sumed of itself last night, and held it there to keep it 
from dropping off. Another anxious pause ensued, when, 
what was my delight at feeling the cold fore-finger press- 
ing gently, but very perceptibly upon the back of my 
hand. I ejaculated with almost profane gleefulness : 

" It is clutching me !" 

" Hark !" said the Doctor, quickly, while both leaned 
forward with painful anxiety for the result. 

Slowly the middle finger commenced to press down. 
Then the third finger. Then the little finger. And at 
last, the spell of death seemed to break, for the arm vio- 
lently stiffened, and the whole hand grasped mine with a 
suddenness that startled us, notwithstanding we were so 
anxiously hoping for some such result. 

We breathed freely again. And I could not but con- 
trast our feelings of placid joy with those of terror which 
filled us last night, when first we beheld the hand and arm 
rising mysteriously from the table. 

But, if the reader is as anxious to learn the tenor of the 
communications as were we to procure them, he will wish 
me to come to them without more delay. In short, I 
must hasten to the conclusion of my task, for I have been 
writing since two this morning, and the dawn has already 
broken. 

To proceed, then: My first question was, iy Aie you 
happy V 

No response. 

Question, again — " Are you happy f 

After a pause : 



i 



THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS, ETC. 43 

RESPONSE. 

"That is a singular interrogatory for this occasion, 
and one, for obvious reasons, I am not able to answer." 

QUESTION. 

"Why are you not able to satisfy your friends on so 
important a point ?" 

RESPONSE. 

" If those who are happy could communicate the fact 
to their friends — those who are unhappy could do the 
same. 

" But I do not see the point," said I. 

RESPONSE. 

" Silence is the best answer." 



" Perhaps if I put the question in an abstract form, the 
difficulty will be removed. Is there happiness and misery 
in your universe V 

No response. 

After a -pause, Mr. H. remarked as follows, namely : 

" But I am anxious to have you finish your experience 
of death. You told us last night that you found yourself 
repeating the words — ' Forms, Motion, Harmony, The 
Arch,' etc., and that you would tell us more to-night." 

RESPONSE. 

" While moving in the midst of your universe, I had 
been blinded by the glare of particularities. Numberless 
individuals and species were around me. I saw not that 
which underlay and ran up through all things. 



44 THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS, ETC. 

"Motion, in all its infinite varieties, is sublime. 
Whether I watch it flitting in the butterfly, curling grace- 
fully in the rising smoke, or darting in the lightning — 
whether I contemplate it in the majestically wheeling 
worlds — or grasp it with far-reaching conception in the 
slow decay of an abbey ruin — it is the same mysterious 
condition of nature. The boy passes into the man. It 
is motion. Nations rise and sink. It is motion. ' Rest' 
is a relative word. As the word ghost sprang from man's 
fear, and expresses something which never had existence, 
so does the word ' rest' spring from man's egotism, and 
expresses what never had existence. That which 
moves faster than man's knowledge is as much rest 
to man as that which moves slower, and that which 
moves without his knowledge is as much rest as either. 
The landscape appears at rest, while silently grow the 
trees, fabricating their slender tissues from the earths, 
the air and the water, with magic fingers ; slowly, un- 
seen by mortal eye, unheard by mortal ear, are the che- 
mical and mechanical forces of nature tapping at the life- 
essence of the rocks and strata ; shine on the stars in 
the heavens unseen by you — move on the worlds of the 
universe unfelt — flows on the eternal circle of vapor, 
clouds and the rain-storm. So, could you enter more 
minutely into nature, would you find that all is motion. 
Rest is not life. Rest is death — is non-existence. And 
your universe lives. It is all working — working — God 
can not rest ! Rest means that thou movest faster than 
some things, and slower than others. Motion is not 
merely a fact in your universe, here and there. It is a 
condition pervading your entire universe, running down to 
every, even the minutest part. Motion underlies and 
runs up through all things. 



THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS, ETC. 45 

" Your universe exists by entering into forms. In its 
present phase it has entered as a whole into the form of 
revolving suns and earths, with all the forms that on and 
in them are. All things around you are in forms — Forms 
— Moving. 

" Come now to the ' Arch.' How do the forms of your 
universe move ? The seed drops into the ground. The 
plant springs up. Watch the arching of the flower. First 
the tender embryo upon, the stem — the unshaped silky 
chaos. This is soon a bud. The bud swells. It bursts. 
The ripe flower opens to the full its fragrant form, and the 
sunbeams come there, and nestle in the warm beauty. 
The maturity is on. The key-stone is reached. But 
not one instant does the motion stop. Less and less 
grows the fragrance. Duller and duller is the blushing 
white — the yellow — the crimson ; petal and sepal and 
stamen and pistil drop away ; and what was a flower is 
nothing. And what of the plant ? Certain particles have 
married into that form. But in the course of. the months, 
or the years, or the centuries, the form dissolves and dis- 
appears. The particles are eternal. But the form is no 
more. The arching of the flower is typical of that of 
every form, and all the arching forms make up your 
universe. All forms come into being — pass, however 
slowly, however rapidly, up to maturity — and so — how- 
ever slowly, however rapidly, down to dissolution. Where 
is hundred gated Thebes % The small makes up the 
great. This is the answer to the autumn leaf, that flits 
across your pathway, and to the dying girl. The great 
motion, which pervades your universe, is its flowering to 
culmination. And hearken ! When it shall have reached 
its acme, it will descend along a bright pathway, and en- 



46 THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS, ETC. 

tering into, be lost in another grand form into which it 
will expand. Forms — Moving — in Arches. 

" Why wonder at the fitness of things 1 The horse's 
head and neck are just long enough to enable him to reach 
the ground, and crop the grass which is his food. And 
you lift your eyes and admire the harmony, and say it 
was so designed. Designing is a process of mind, requir- 
ing more or less time, and arguing imperfection. Forget 
thee, great man, who is thy God. God weigheth not, nor 
doth he consider. God resteth not, but liveth out his 
nature of necessity. For he can not be any one else, as a 
square can not be a circle. Men wonder at the fitness of 
the horse's head and neck for the purposes for which they 
are used. They do not consider that were his neck and 
head too short to reach his food, the whole race of horses 
would die. Discord would defeat itself. And they are 
astonished, because they discover only a part of the har- 
mony of nature. Harmony prevails everywhere from 
the necessity of the case. It pervades your universe. 
Forms — Moving — Harmoniously — in Arches. 

" There is action and reaction around you. Who was he 
that said, ' Each grain of sand is the centre of all things V 
This is truth. Each form acts upon every other, and is 
reacted upon, in turn, by every other. Mind, even, works 
upon your universe. Your universe works upon mind. 
Connected — Forms — Moving — Harmoniously — in 
Arches. 

" Beauty is universal. To the mind of man a part is 
free. The rest is latent. This, too, is well. For mind 
must build, first a hut — then a house — then a temple. 
Mind upon earth must search out beauty — must be 
educated for higher works in the future. God is not dis- 



THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS, ETC. 47 

cordant ; so is he all beautiful. Connected — and Beau- 
tiful Forms — Moving — Harmoniously — in Arches. 

" Therefore is your universe not a heterogeneous mass 
of disjointed parts. It is a homogeneity. It is distinct 
and different from our universe. 

" Rise now for a moment to a contemplation of Deity. 
To gain a conception of him, conceive of any form 
around you — a golden goblet. It has certain qualities — 
color, hardness, extension, weight — by which you know it. 
So has God essential qualities, which constitute him the 
being he is. He is an infinite being, therefore are each 
of his qualities infinite. Your universe is the expression 
of one of those qualities — mine, of another. Both are, 
therefore, infinite ; infinite in extent, — infinite in duration, 
from the past and into the future. But as God, too, is an 
infinite being, he has not a finite number of qualities, as 
has the golden goblet ; but an infinite number of qualities, 
each of which expresses itself in an infinite universe. 
The soul has within itself a germ of every universe, and 
it sinketh on ever from one to another. The universes 
are infinite in number, therefore is the soul everlasting ; 
ever growing in knowledge, yet never exhausting that 
through which it passes. For it would require an infinity 
of years to exhaust the secrets of one single infinite uni- 
verse, how much more, then, to exhaust those of an infinite 
number of universes, each of which is infinite in itself! 
Glorious art thou, O man, the everlasting ! Glorious art 
thou, O man, that ever sinketh through the universes ! 
Glorious art thou, O infinitely greater — exhaustless God ! 

" Thus then do I describe to you your universe. 
" Connected and Beautiful Forms 
Moving Harmoniously in Arches through all 
Eternity." 



48 SHE EVENTFUL NIGHTS, ETC. 

This uctordinary communication was followed by a 
long, thoughtful pause on our part. What subjects for 
contemplation did it not open up ! the connection between 
universe and universe ; the connection between God and 
his universes ; the meaning of death ; its necessity, as a 
link, between universe and universe, etc. At length, I 
broke the silence by the following remark, namely : " But in 
all this — for which we are truly grateful to you — you have 
not given us what we so anxiously wait for, to wit, the 
remainder of your experience of death. What of the 
arch in which you found yourself? And what species 
of place is the new universe, into which the soul passed 
at death ?" 

RESPONSE. 

" The spirit frees itself from the cloudy arch by reason- 
ing and testing. It finds itself alone. The solitude is 
oppressive. At first it knows not what manner of being 
it is. It struggles, in the solitude, to bring into existence 
something besides itself, that it may not be alone. But 
tell those that shall die, to pause patiently, until the dying 
has ceased. Each soul will then involuntarily test itself. 
At first, it supposes that all its faculties were suited to its 
condition and surroundings upon the earth alone. Its eyes 
and ears, with their corresponding mental faculties, seemed 
fitted alone to enable it to act in the world. Love bound 
it to its fellows. Sublimity and ideality enabled it to 
enjoy the beauty and grandeur of nature. But it knows 
that it has dropped nature. What use then for these 
mental faculties % — for benevolence, since the sick and suf- 
fering and needy are left behind ; for its moral faculties, 
since mankind is gone ; yes, even for its pious faculties, 
for it finds no God. Thus does it eliminate itself from 



THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS, ETC. 49 

every condition of earth. But forthwith I realized that I 
was reasoning. I recognized the action of selfish faculties ; 
for I was alone, and yearned for companionship. I re- 
membered that I had been observing the long archway, 
with its gentle wavering, its form, its vast length, its soft, 
variegated opal colors. I realized that I was appreciating 
the surpassing beauty and the grandeur of this my passage. 
I noticed that I was remembering ; and when I reached 
where I now am, I knew within myself an ardent desire 
for knowledge ; I was charmed with the new scenes around 
me ; I found new companions to love, new grandeurs to 
enjoy, new duties before me, new works to accomplish. 
I see no God. But I know that he exists. Thus did I 
learn myself, discovering that • I still possessed all the 
mental faculties I had on earth." 



" And when you looked around you, what species of 
place did you find yourself in V 

t RESPONSE. 

" There is no ' passage ' with me, as you move on earth. 
There is no ' place,' as you speak of ' locality' on earth. 
There is no ' form,' as you speak of shape on earth. The 
archway of death was but a condition in which I remained 
while testing myself, and becoming prepared to enter into 
my present state. Our condition here is such, that that 
by which each soul seems surrounded, is an out-creation 
from itself. When you are in a grove, the grove actually 
| exists ; and would exist were you not there. Not so here. 
We can not speak of ' locality,' for there is no such thing 
in this life ; and therein consists the difficulty of making 
you comprehend our condition. But that, here, which is 
3 



50 THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS, ETC. 

analogous to your * locality,' I must express by using your 
word. The locality, in which is each soul from time to 
time, does not exist outside of itself, as, for instance, does 
your grove, or street, or habitation ; but it is an out- 
creation of the soul itself; and I appear to live in the 
midst of my out-creations ; they are all in effect as actual 
to me, as are your surroundings to you." 

" But this being the condition of affairs," remarked I, 
after a pause, " your universe must be very heterogeneous 
in appearance. 

RESPONSE. 

" Beware of materialism, — for its hand-maiden is 
atheism. The landscapes of earth ' appear ' to the vision 
— and the dark blue vault of the heavens with its stars ! 
I comprehend your difficulty, however, and will explain 
as best I may. 

True, each soul lives in the midst of its out-creations ; 
and you might suppose our universe heterogeneous in its 
character. But consider the various localities of earth, 
how they differ from each other. Where is there sim- 
ilarity between a room and a river flowing between its 
leafy banks % Bear in memory, that no two persons on 
earth can occupy, at the same time, the same space, and 
witness their surroundings from precisely the same angles, 
else would they be one person. So, no two souls live in 
the same out-creations, else would they be one soul. But, 
as all the different spirits — which, with their ever-varying, 
ingenious and beautiful out-creations, compose this uni- 
verse — have, nevertheless, that something in common, 
which throws them together into the one class — ' souls,' — 
our universe has a general effect of unity in itself, analo- 



THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS, ETC. 51 

gous to that unity which is possessed by the universe 
you lame not yet left. 

" Motion pervades this universe also. All the souls are 
continually varying their out-creations. Therefore is it 
like a vast kaleidoscope — heaving itself into new, grand 
forms of beauty, for ever and ever ! 

" Thus can I dimly only tell you of that to which I 
awoke." 

QUESTION. 

"But how can your universe be infinite, when the 
number of spirits who have left earth is finite 1 ?" 

RESPONSE. 

" Look into thy heavens. Thou beholdest but a thou- 
sand of the infinite lights ! " 
" But where are you 2 " asked I. 

RESPONSE. 

" Is color above extension'? Is weight above, or beneath 
or even among color] And yet each is different from the 
other, while all are qualities of the same golden goblet. 
Neither can I say, that we are above, or beneath, or even 
among your universe:' — and yet each universe—yours 
and mine — is a part. of God." 

Well, we were at length satisfied with regard to the 
general character of the abode of the departed, and our con- 
versation about it was long and rambling. I will not 
detail what we said, as no notes were taken of it, but will 
leave the reader to his own reflections. 

At length I asked the spirit, if he could give us any in- 
formation in relation to the appearance of the soul — its 
form, its structure. 



52 THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS, ETC. 



" Mankind are wrong. The earth and their senses clog 
them. Every man, when he thinks of a spirit, attains to a 
conception of it by passing through an unnoticed, subtle se- 
ries of rapid steps. He thinks of some material object — 
water; he passes thence to steam; thence to air, and 
finally, by a farther etherealization, he reaches a conception 
of spirit. This unremembered but invariable process leads 
inevitably to a conception tinged with materiality. To 
gain an idea of spirit, think of a single thought. It has no 
shape — it occupies no space ; — and yet it is distinct and 
different from every other thought. Pass thence to a 
spirit, which has no shape — which occupies no space, and 
yet is distinct and different from every other spirit. A 
tree is a material unit — non-self-conscious. A thought is a 
spiritual unit — non-self-conscious. A soul is a spiritual unit 
— self-conscious." 

This was a new process — to me a simple and reasonable 
one, — and I wondered that it had not struck me before. 



"Do the relationships of earth — the friendships, the 
filial loves — last beyond the grave? " 
No response. 
" Have you friendships in the other world?" 

RESPONSE. 

" By how much the better was the spirit at death, by so 
much the more lovely are his out-creations as he sweeps 
hither-among. Thus there are grades among us, as there 
are among you. Thus there are similarities and dissimi- 



THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS, ETC. 53 

larities of disposition. Free intercourse exists among the 
souls — free-will. Thus are there opportunities for advance 
and improvement, or for the reverse. Could you pass to 
a contemplation of the other universes — which do exist, 
although I see them not — then would you feel how import- 
ant is improvement at every step. Awaken to a concep- 
tion of a life for ever ! For each universe which the soul 
has passed through is lost to it for ever with all the means 
of advance contained therein. And, as capacity for enjoy- 
ment widens and deepens the farther we sink along the 
universes, so does the disadvantage of a single unimproved 
universe in the past increase in awful, irremediable pro- 
portion, the farther we advance through the future. An 
unimproved universe is a clog for ever ! Beware, beware ! 
oh ! beware! Act purely, — speak purely, — but, above all, 
think purely and with dignity. For in two universes, at 
least, selfishness is the mainspring of the spirit's life." 



" But how do you converse, having left the organs of ar- 
ticulation upon earth 1" 

RESPONSE. 

"As it is with you, neither can soul here pierce the 
depth of the soul. Each recognizes the other's out-crea- 
tions, but can not pass within them into the motives and 
thoughts of the soul with which he is communicating. The 
conversation of the pure in heart on earth is truthful ; that 
of the vast intellect embodies great thoughts ; the words of 
the vile are either vile or deceitful. Thus is it here. Our 
out-creations each arranges at will. The noble, the great, 
the improved, can and do naturally surround themselves 
with corresponding out-creations. They bear an influence 



54 THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS, ETC. 

among us. There are souls that originate, and souls that 
copy. And truth and deceit is mingled here as it is with 
you. You can judge of a man's motives, notwithstanding 
his remarks ; — we can judge of a soul's motives notwith- 
standing his out-creations. Thus, as it were, do we commu- 
nicate with each other — originating and improving, or re- 
trograding, as you do on earth. Death will necessarily 
make no one happy — free no one from cares — release no 
one from labors. Our condition is no happier than yours. 
Not only does the individual have duties to perform here, 
as you suppose, for which he should prepare himself on 
earth by purity and a strengthening of the mind, but races 
have also grand works to perform." 



" Must the souls advance to a definite point of perfection 
before they can pass from your universe to the next % " 

RESPONSE. 

" Why do you ask this, when it is not so with you ? " 
" It is generally supposed to be the fact," said I. 

RESPONSE. 

" No soul knoweth when it shall be summoned away — 
we know not whither. Our out-creations are to us here, 
as are your bodies on earth. When the soul is no longer 
able to surround itself with out- creations, it becomes unfit 
for duties in this universe ; it can not act among us, any 
more than can a corpse among you. And the soul — the 
4 me' — when its out-creations die from around it, remains 
for an instant a torpid entity, and vanishes, ere we can 
think, we know not whither. This is death with us.'' 



THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS, ETC. 55 

QUESTION 

" Do the friendships of earth continue beyond death ? " 



" Lift yourself to a contemplation of an eternal exist- 
ence, and think of the fleeting friendships of earth and 
their uses. Is not the useless cast away? " 

" It is sad to think of parting for ever from a loved 
mother or sister," said I. " It is sad to think, that when we 
stand by the death-bed of a dear father, we shall see him 
no more." 

No response. 

" I say, it is sad to feel that at death we leave our friends 
for ever." 

RESPONSE. 

" The useful remaineth. God is great." 
" Can you not answer us more definitely V 

RESPONSE. 

" Would you have me say, that the soul of a vile son 
shall for ever pollute the purity of a sainted mother, or 
that a loving sister shall for ever be separated from a 
kind brother ? 

" I would have you tell us the truth." 

No response. 



From the Doctor. " Is the doctrine of transmigration 
of souls correct m whole, or even in part 1" At this mo- 
ment I noticed the other hand and arm of the corpse mov- 
ing slightly. The odic fluid had evidently penetrated the 
entire body. 



56 THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS, ETC. 

RESPONSE. 

" Can the tree call back its leaves 1 We press ever 
onward. Death is a barrier, across which we may look 
back, but over which we may not pass again." 



" Is there communication between your universe and 
the one beyond you f 

No response. 

QUESTION. 

" Can you tell us of the universe beyond you f 

RESPONSE. 

" Did you know aught of this, until now, save that it 
existed f 1 

" It is true," said I ; " but what, what of the next f 

RESPONSE. 

" Knowing l color' and ' extension' only, how could you 
judge what manner of quality ' weight' might be ? Neither 
can we conceive what manner of universe the next is, for 
we have nothing to judge from. We only know it to be 
as different in its character from ours as ours is from 
yours, as color is from weight." 

We had scarcely received the response, when I was 
amazed at finding the entire body strangely agitated. 
The odic fluid, passing through the arm, had indeed pene- 
trated it throughout. But before I could speak, the hand 
dropped away from mine, and I was stupefied at seeing the 
corpse rise slowly to a sitting posture — evidently without 
any internal muscular action, but as though it were willed 
up from without by its disembodied soul. It was stiff and 



THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS, ETC. 57 

stark. The lids opened, the black eyes — they were the 
glazed, soulless eyes of death — stared forth into vacuity, 
and, to our horror, the chin dropped, the organs of articu- 
lation were moved — the corpse spoke ! 

" Great Heavens ! — I am — I am — leaving my universe ! 
— my out-creations die from around me ! — I am passing 
to the next — Oh ! where ! — where ! — I am Dying — dy — 
Fare-—" 

And the body fell relaxed upon the bed, the right arm 
bounding as it struck. 

When we had recovered partially from our stupefac- 
tion, we looked around us, and could scarcely believe what 
we had seen and heard. Could it indeed be possible, that 
the corpse had moved — had uttered words? Yes — we 
were all awake — all dismayed — terror-stricken; and in 
the ears of each of us still rang those words of awful im- 
port : " I am leaving my universe ! — my out-creations die 
from around me ! I am passing to the next !" Could 
our senses have deceived us % And yet, if the disembodi- 
ed spirit could, through the medium of the odic fluid, move 
the table, or the arm and hand that once were his, why, 
indeed, could it not will the inhaling muscles and the 
organs of articulation into action 1 Yes, strange though 
it seemed, the one was no more unreasonable than the 
other. 

We laid the body into a proper position again, re-closed 
Its eyes, and resumed our seats. 

But the spirit — the spirit — whither had it flown ? It 
was now not even within our reach ! A whole universe 
was between us ! 

What more is there for me to say 1 My task is done. 
I have related the strange occurrences to which I have 
been witness during the past forty-eight hours, as faith- 
s'* 



58 THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS, ETC. 

fully as lies in my power, — and my duty to the world is 
performed. 

The Doctor and Mr. H. left me at two this morning, 
promising to return at noon. The reader knows the rest. 
Stealthily, hour by hour, has the night stolen away, the 
silence only broken by the rustling of my papers. Janie 
still sleeps sweetly and confidingly. One lock of hair 
must I clip from the marble forehead — one single memen 
to of the departed for her who is left alone. 

Five days afterwards, two passed over the hills toward 
that silent city, beneath the shade of whose trees and 
among whose winding paths all eyes are closed — all hands 
are peacefully crossed for ever. And as they left the city 
of the living behind them, and the din of its crowded 
streets died away in the distance, peace fell upon their 
hearts, and I knew they drew closer together, as they 
walked hand in hand. It was the blessed Sabbath morn- 
ing. -Nearer and nearer sounded the solemn, mournful 
roar of the great Pacific. To the elder, it seemed like 
the far-heard, commingled converse of the innumerable 
departed ! 

Thus they moved in silence, and entered the broad 
avenue, with sunny hearts. Path after path they thread- 
ed, and at last they stood before a new-made grave. 
Flowers were freshly planted around it, and on the head- 
stone were graven these simple words : 

And as the elder threw himself upon the grass, he knew 
not which was the fairer — the younger or the flowers she 
tripped among. 



FLO WIST: A KEVEKIE. 

• A SEQUEL TO "THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS," ETC. 



" When she had passed, it seemed like the ceasing of exquisite music." 

She lies in the little chamber. All is hushed around 
her. The crimson cords are loosed, and the curtains 
hang heavily to the floor. They speak in whispers around 
me ; the doors are closed noiselessly, and footsteps in the 
hall are softened ; for they could not but love my orphaned 
one — my sweet, my playful, gentle sister. The light falls 
crimson around her. Her arms lie folded upon her breast 
— -as soft and snowy as the pillow where rests her head. 
And outflowing is the wealth of her chestnut ringlets — 
how rich, oh ! how soft and warm and rich — upon her mar- 
ble shoulders, how beautiful in their light and shade, 
how graceful in their negligence ! Her lids are closed — 
they do not even tremble. Her lips are parted. And 
she lies so still — so fair, and pale, and still — that I can not 
think but she is dead. And I have just passed noiselessly 
to the bed-side, and I have just leaned forward and listen- 
ed for her breath, and I have just placed a single white 
rose upon her breast, that she may know I have watched 
her, and am near. Oh ! how beautiful is sleep ! 

Why do they whisper around me ! Why do they look 
at me so mournfully — so mournfully and silently ! And 



60 SEQUEL TO " THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS," ETC. 

"why did they move her little stand away, — and why — why 
does she not come 1 Did he not say there were hopes % 
She is very — very still ! 

How gracefully the tassels fall ! How beautiful the 
colors of her room ! The crimson and the gold ! Ah, she 
rests richly ! She shall suffer no more. Never again 
shall she ask for bread — for a single crust from the neigh- 
bors, because her father is sick, and she is hungry. Never 
again shall she wander, obediently and patiently, in the 
dark night, for a stranger to come to her lonely home. 
Never again shall the tear-drops melt in ..her mournful 
eyes ; for I shall kiss them all away. Never again in the 
chill winter shall her fragile limbs lack raiment. For 
God will give me strength for her sweet sake. God shall 
give me life and health and strength ; and her little room 
shall always be next to mine, — shall always be beautiful 
as she is beautiful. The crimson and the gold ; and the 
white lace canopy above her, — and her little book-case, — 
and her play-things, — and, by and by, her little work- 
table in the corner. Yes, she must not— '-can not die ! 
God shall spare her, even for my guilty, guilty sake ! Has 
he not already taken father and mother, — and shall he 
take the child 1 ? She is not left alone, — oh, she is not 
alone ! She need not go. Has he not reared for her a 
protector — a brother'? Yes, I shall never ask again, 
Why have I lived 1 I see it — know it, now. And God 
has spared me, that she may be happy. 

In the little chamber ; so statue-like and still ! The 
door is open between us. And they have all gone, and 
left us alone in the night. And every thing is hushed. 
She has begun to smile again. And she would clap 
her little hands as I came in, and run to me for a kiss, — 
and many a happy hour would I spend with her among 



SEQUEL TO '* THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS," ETC. 61 

her play -things. And now she lies so quiet ; and her 
face, and neck, and shoulders are so like marble ; and her 
ringlets lie so peacefully, — that I can not think but she is 
dead. It was a gentle hand that laid them ; I know it 
was no mother's hand,' — but it was a gentle, loving hand 
that laid them, — and she kissed it, and said : 

"Dear brother, why are you weeping? Have I not 
been a good little girl % The Doctor told me I should be 
well soon. And, then, you shall play with me again ; 
shan't you ? and read to me again — about Joseph and his 
brethren." O God ! God ! Whither shall I turn ! 

It seems but a se'nnight ago, that the mournful rites 
Were over, and, after they had borne him to his grave, 
that we stood together in the silent room. She knew 
nothing but that he was gone now, and that she was left 
alone ; and so, with the instinct of Jielplessness and inno- 
cence, she looked at me, she scarce knew why ; I felt that 
she was clinging to me. And as I moved around the 
room, she watched me, or hovered near me, knowing not 
what was to be done, nor whither she was to go. Oh, 
that sweet face, with its silent expression of uncertainty 
and mournfulness ! 

When all was ready, I could not leave, but sat down 
for a moment, and took her into my lap. And as the 
tears rose, and I leaned forward and wept, she looked into 
my face with sympathizing gaze, and almost wept, too, 
because I was sad. At length, as I arose, and looked for 
the last time upon the bed, now empty, she stood silently 
by my side, — looked where I looked, — put her little hand 
in mine, and with the same mournful, uncertain expression 
in her eyes, followed, yielding, whithersoever I led her. 

And then she grew cheerful again. Her little room 
was very pleasant, — and it was next to mine, — and Mrs. 



62 SEQUEL TO " THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS," ETC 

B. was very, very kind to her. And her little chair was 
next to mine at the table. And, when the sun-light fell 
upon the corner of my book-case, she knew it was time 
for me to come, — and she would watch for me along the 
street, — and she would run down to meet me at the door, 
and tell me she had been a good girl. And at last 
her little dresses came, and her hat ; and she was very 
happy, and light, and fairy-like : for I had left all these to 
Mrs. B. And then, in the evening, I would stay with her. 
And when Margaret came for her, she would kneel by 
my side, and say her little prayers, and kiss me, and bid 
me good night. Ah ! .she was very sweet and sunny to 
me, — and I know she loved me, — and I believe I grew to 
be a better man. 

And then they told me one day, that Janie was sick, 
and had asked for me ; and they had sent for the Doctor. 
And she was so glad to see me as I came in. And then, 
the windows were darkened ; and they were all so kind 
to her : and she was very — very grateful. And then, she 
sank lower and lower. Oh ! how I have watched her these 
last five nights ! And as her voice grew weaker and 
weaker, how have I fallen upon my knees in anguish, and 
prayed God, that he would but spare her ! But, alas ! 
they have moved away her little stand ; and they have 
opened the window ; and they are all weeping around me ; 
and she will never — never take the rose from her breast, 
and know that I have watched her and am near ! 



SEQUEL TO " THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS," ETC. 



EXPLANATOKY SEQUEL 

During several months subsequent to the publication 
of the above paper in The Pioneer, so much had been 
said and written concerning the article, — so many letters 
had been addressed to me on the subject, from strangers 
in different parts of the Union, — so gross a blunder 
had been committed by one or two of the leading " spir- 
itualist " editors in re-publishing the fiction as a narrative 
of facts, that I decided to write an explanatory communi- 
cation on the subject to Mr. James Gordon Bennett. 

The communication was published in the New-York 
Morning Herald of March 12, accompanied by the fol- 
lowing brief notice from the editor, namely : 

" Astounding Revelation from the Spirit World. — 
"We publish to-day a curious communication from San 
[Francisco, which will fall like a bomb-shell into the camp 
of the spiritualists. It appears that some months since, 
the writer, Mr. E. C. Ewer, of San Francisco, took it into 
his head to prepare for thQ^California Pioneer Magazine a 
fiction of rather a bold and original conception, undertak- 
ing to describe the sensations of a dying man during the 
moment of dissolution, and sketching the scene which 
opens to the soul as it enters upon its second existence. 
Some two or three months after it was published, the 
writer was surprised by receiving a letter from Judge 
Edmonds, stating that he had copied the first part of it 
into the November number of the Sacred Circle, and add- 
ing the astounding fact that he (the Judge) had had seve- 



64 SEQUEL TO " THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS," ETC. 

ral spiritual interviews with the defunct fictitious hero of 
the narrative, ' John F. Lane !' The best part of the 
joke is, that the article contains assertions in physics 
which are impossible, and which, to minds less credulous 
than those of Judge Edmonds and his fellow dupes, would 
have at once suggested doubts as to the sincerity of the 
writer. The value attached to the Judge's adhesion to the 
new sect will, after this exposure, be considerably less- 
ened. If his present convictions have been arrived at on 
such loose evidence as the above, we can only say that, 
however much we may admire the extent of his faith, we 
can have very little respect for his professional acumen." 

Doubtless the New-York Herald of the 12th of March 
has already reached the eyes of nearly all that perused 
" The Eventful Nights" in The Pioneer. Nevertheless, I 
can not but regard it as proper, that the explanatory com- 
munication should appear in the same medium through 
which the article to which it relates was first presented to 
the public. I give it therefore below, merely remarking 
that the " heading " was prefixed to it by the editor of 
the Herald ; namely : 

"ANOTHER B03IBSHELL THROWN INTO THE CA3IP OP THE SPI- 
RITUALISTS. A NUT FOR JUDGE EM0ND3 TO CRACK. 

"To the Editor of the New- York Herald: 

" I trust it is not asking too much to beg the favor of a 
short space in your columns for an explanation to which 
I find myself forced by Judge Edmonds and the editor 
of the Christian Spiritualist, in relation to a fiction 
prepared by me for The Pioneer Magazine, which, I must 



SEQUEL TO "THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS," ETC. 65 

say, singularly enough, they have seen fit to re-publish as 
fact, and as an evidence in proof of ' spiritualism,' — the 
former in his magazine and the latter in his newspaper. 

" In order to render the matter clear to you, it is, per- 
haps, necessary for me to state that, in casting about for 
a subject, it struck me that no one had ever passed in 
imagination across the line of the solemn Shadow of Death, 
to record what may be the- sensations of a dying man 
during the moment of dissolution, and to sketch a picture 
of the scenes, so to speak, which may open to the soul 
as it enters upon its second existence. 

" Knowing that the subject would necessarily involve me 
in ideas somewhat metaphysical in their character, I de- 
termined, in order to render what I had to write the more 
attractive, to surround it with a story in the narrative 
style. 

" My first difficulty was to account, apparently, for the 
manner in which the strange information concerning death 
and the physique of the future world was to reach the 
earth ; and it occurred to me that the best mode of over- 
coming this difficulty would be to assume a fictitious char- 
acter, describe his death, representing him as conversing 
up to the last moment, and then allow him to give the re- 
mainder of his experience of death, and a description of 
that which was opening to his gaze, by means of ' spirit- 
ual manifestations,' so called. I gave the name of 'John 
F. Lane' to my leading fictitious character, located the 
occurrences in San Francisco, and entitled the article, 
'The Eventful Nights of August 20th and 21st.' 

" Two or three months after it was published, I received 
a letter from Judge Edmonds, in which he stated that his 
attention had been called to the article by a friend in San 
Francisco, and that he had copied the first half of it into 



66 SEQUEL TO "THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS," ETC. 

the November number of The Sacred Circle. This was 
quite a surprise to me, but the surprise was as nothing 
to my astonishment on being made acquainted by him 
with the fact, that he had had several ' spiritual ' inter- 
views with my defunct fictitious character, ' John E. 
Lane.' 

" I must confess I scarcely knew what step to take under 
the circumstances. At first I was about to write to Judge 
Edmonds ; but on maturer thought, I decided, for several 
reasons, to adopt the course of addressing the public, with 
your liberty, through these columns. In the first place, if 
I am to judge any thing from the numerous letters on the 
subject of ' The Eventful Nights' which I have received 
from strangers, the article has gone broadcast over the 
Union. In fact, I know this to be the case, from the re-pub- . 
lications which are before me ; and I can not but feel that 
the minds of many who have perused it, and believe it to 
be a narration of facts, should be disabused of their error. 
And in the second place, I am the more impelled to the 
step I am taking, inasmuch as the argument used by so 
many thousands — namely, that Judge Edmonds has for 
years been in the habit of weighing testimony, and that if 
there is enough in spiritualism to convince him, 'there 
must be something in it' — can now be easily refuted. 
The fact is made too evident for contradiction, that he has 
shown himself to the thousands who look for-and implicitly 
believe his views on the subject, and to the world at large, 
as a man incapable of weighing testimony touching spirit- 
ualism, carefully ; and not only one whose mind can be 
easily tossed about by the designing, but, as in this in- 
stance, to be one who is anxious to deceive himself. 

" Had he merely re-published an imaginary case of 
* spiritualism,' which contained no assertions in physics 



SEQUEL TO " THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS," ETC. 67 

impossible in themselves, or which, granting the correct 
ness of the ' spiritualist ' theory, might have occurred, the 
blunder would not have been so unfortunate for him as a 
leader in the new theory. He could only have been 
charged with indecent haste in accepting testimony. 

" But how utterly incompetent he is to stand prominent 
among what has become a very numerous sect in America 
— how utterly unworthy he is of wielding the wide and in- 
creasing influence he unquestionably wields — will be 
plainly seen by any calm, thinking man, who may peruse 
'The Eventful Nights of August 20th and 21st.' 

" How stands the case 1 In the first place, the article 
contains assertions in physics which can not, in the nature 
of things, be true. For instance, a circumstance is re- 
♦ corded which, stripped of all surroundings, and reduced to 
plain English, amounts simply to this : that a magnetic 
needle turned away from its place at the north, and went 
round to the south-west point with a jerk,, several times, 
and of its own accord. Why, it seems to me almost in- 
credible that this fact alone should not have sufficed to 
stagger the Judge's credulity, great even as he has shown 
it to be. - . 

" In the second place, any one who is not over-anxious to 
believe in spiritualism — who is not willingly blind — could 
hardly fail to see that the article, as a whole, is the argu- 
ment reductio ad absurdurn — to be applied to spiritualism. 
I assume the ground of the spiritualists, namely, that all mat- 
ter conducts this mysterious ' odic fluid,' and that it is the 
necessary condition to interlie between mind and matter, 
to enable the disembodied soul to move matter, as the 
embodied mind moves the arm or foot ; and, finally, at 
the close of the article, show to what an absurdity these 
positions will lead, namely, that the departed soul will have 



68 SEQUEL TO "THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS," ETC. 

a power over its dead body, which common sense and the 
universal experience of mankind teach it does not and can 
not have. For, while the ' circle ' present at Lane's death 
are charging the table all night with the ' odic fluid,' they 
unconsciously charge Lane's entire corpse, which, after his 
soul has given all the information promised, suddenly 
interrupts the conversation by rising bolt upright in the 
bed, opening its eyes, and announcing that the soul feels 
itself at that instant dying very suddenly in the next 
world, and passing into a third state of existence. And 
yet, instead of seeing this absurdity, Judge Edmonds, 
forsooth, clutching tightly his premises, moves placidly, 
like a sheep to the slaughter, into any ridiculous conclusion 
to which his assumptions may lead him. 

" Nor is this all that should have arrested the attention of 
the Judge, of his collaborates of the Christian Spirit- 
ualist, and of the spiritualists generally. The very com- 
munications purporting to come from Lane, present a 
theory with regard to the Creator, the soul, this world, the 
next, etc., utterly contrary to the theory maintained by 
the spiritualists. Lane, for instance, denies that the soul 
is etherealized matter, and that it has shape ; he denies 
that the immaterial particle occupies time to pass through 
space — (that if it ' doesn't know,' forsooth, whether our 
absent friends are well or not, it can ' go and see,' and 
' return and let us know.') He denies that one must be- 
come purer and better before he can advance from one 
state of existence to another * hereafter, etc., etc. And yet 
Judge Edmonds, in his infatuation, and his brother editor 
of the Spiritualist, in his infatuation, have blindly re-pub- 
lished as true, and corroborative of their theory, an article 
distinctly announcing a theory before which their own 
magnificent hierarchy of ' spheres ' and ' circles,' and their 



SEQUEL TO "THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS," ETC. 69 

own fine-drawn materialism, must utterly fall. It really 
seems as if these astute investigators had adopted what 
the Frenchman called the Americans' motto, ' Go 'head — • 
no mind.' 

" I might allude to the ill-disguised differences of style be- 
tween Lane's remarks, the remarks of another spirit, and 
the narrator's remarks, as well as to other internal evi- 
dences, going plainly to show that the article could not 
have been a narration of facts ; but will only make one 
more statement in this connection. 

"Not to go into minutiae, according to the theory de- 
veloped in ' The Eventful Nights,' the soul, at death, passes 
into a second state of existence, as different from this as 
extension is from weight, and, in the process of time, dies 
there, and passes on to a third state, as different from the 
first and second as the color blue is from a mass meeting ; 
and so on, there being no possible intercommunication be- 
tween the spirits in the third state and men upon earth. 
And yet Judge Edmonds, while he publishes as true a 
statement, according to which he could have had no 
' spiritual ' intercourse whatever with Lane — even granting 
that such a character had ever existed — gives to the world 
a communication from him. 

" That those who stand at the head of a class of religion- 
ists in America numbered by thousands — that those who 
are the Sir Oracles of ' spiritualists ' — should have re-pub- 
lished in their own journals, as a remarkable proof in 
favor of their theory, an article which, as a whole, is an 
argument against themselves ; which, besides, contains 
statements in physics that could not be true, and which, in 
addition to this, propounds a theory before which their 
own must utterly fall ; and, to crown all, should report a 
conversation which they have just announced could not 



70 SEQUEL TO "THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS," ETC. 

have taken place — seems almost too ridiculous for belief. 
The whole affair is too glaring an evidence — I will not say 
against ' spiritualism ' — but of the blindness of its devo- 
tees, to justify my taking any other step than that of ex- 
posing it to the world. 

" To complete this singular history, allow me to state that 
Judge Edmonds, in laying before his readers the first half 
of my article, publishes the letter from his friend, Mr* 
J. E. Austin, of this city, with a statement that he gives 
the article for what it is worth. In his December num- 
ber, however, he publishes the conclusion, with a prefix, 
in which he says, that although some who have read the 
article doubt its truth, there is nothing in it too marvellous 
for him to believe ; and, finally, settles the matter, so far 
as he is concerned, by an additional prefix, dated Novem- 
ber 4, in which he publishes a report of a spiritual con- 
versation about the affair between himself and Lane, con- 
taining, among other curious announcements from the 
latter, a promise to the effect that further communications 
were to come from him through me. I merely desire, by 
way of parenthesis, to inform Judge Edmonds and his 
friends that I said all I wished to say in ' The Eventful 
Nights' — that I consider Mr. John F. Lane exceedingly 
dead, and that I do not intend to write another fiction in 
which he shall figure. 

" I find also, that after the second half had been re-pub- 
lished in the Sacred Circle, the editor of the Christian 
Spiritualist, for fear it should not be thoroughly placed 
before the believers in the new doctrines, and those who 
were wavering, re-published it again, and, to settle all cavil, 
writes an article nearly a column long, to prove that it is 
utter folly to disbelieve in 'The Eventful Nights' as a nar- 
ration of facts. 






SEQUEL TO " THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS," ETC. 71 

"I fear that I am encroaching on your space, but the posi- 
tion in which I find myself demands a word or two more 
of explanation from me. 

" Mr. A. states in his letter that there is 'much doubt ex- 
isting in the minds of some of our community as to 
whether said article is fiction or fact ;' that he knows me, 
asd believes me to be 'entirely incapable of giving publi- 
cation to so important a falsehood as this would be were 
it not true, and one calculated to do so much injury.' I 
find myself, therefore, reduced by this either to the neces- 
sity of remaining silent, and thereby implying that ' The 
Eventful Nights' is a narration of facts, or to the disa- 
greeable necessity of obtruding myself upon the public 
with the announcement that the article is a fiction, and 
with an explanation, to clear up my character for veracity. 
I conceive that I have a perfect right, as a truthful man, to 
propound a theory which I have never seen in print before, 
and which I believe may not be without interest to some 
— to hold up (even at a charge of arrogance) the result of 
an unaided mind on earth, in contrast with a theory pur- 
porting to come from a world beyond the grave — to con- 
trast a theory which is, as I think, consistent in all its parts, 
and, to say the least, not impossible, with a theory which 
contradicts itself, and therefore can not possibly be true. I 
believe that I have a perfect right to weave this theory 
into a fiction which, as a whole, is the argument reductio 
ad absurdum, to be applied against spiritualism, without 
subjecting myself to the charge of being a man regardless 
of the high dictates of truth. I shall say no more on this 
point here ; but propose, now that I have become inter- 
woven with the spiritualists, to treat the matter more at 
length, through the pages of my own periodical. 

"Mr. Austin also writes that the little girk—alluding to 



72 SEQUEL TO " THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS," ETC. 

' Little Janie,' another character in the tale — was living at 
the house where I resided, and that I am a ' writing 
medium.' This reminds me very forcibly of the story of 
the ' Three Black Crows,' and only shows how eager spirit- 
ualists are to believe what they wish to be true. It is but 
another evidence that their investigations are searches, not 
after truth, but after proofs for their theory. It may not 
be irrelevant for me to say that after the article was pub- 
lished, if I happened to be in a ball-room where there was 
a little girl, or was anywhere in the neighborhood of a 
little girl, the question was frequently asked, 'Is that little 
Jane Lane V And it is probable that Mr. Austin's story 
originated from the fact that at the house where I occupied 
a room there was a little girl, an adopted daughter of the 
landlady. With regard to my being a ' writing medium,' 
I had never had any hesitancy in saying that my hand was 
at times moved in a very singular mamier, without any 
direct volition on my part, to my knowledge. And I may 
also take this occasion to say that, after months of calm 
investigation, I could and can discover no evidence of the 
interposition of disembodied souls. My hand has never 
given me information of any importance whatever, although 
I have given it a fair chance, and has never answered any 
test question correctly. On the contrary, by careful intro- 
spection and delicate memory, I have been able to trace 
every answer which it has penned while in this abnormal 
condition to the indirect action of my own mind. I can 
not, of course, state this with the same positiveness with 
which I can state that this paper is before me ; but I state 
it with the same positiveness with which I can assert any 
fact of memory. 

" If Mr. Austin had made inquiries — as he should have 
done — he would have found as others did, that there was 



SEQUEL TO "THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS," ETC. 73 

no house in the locality designated as the spot where Lane 
died. 

" But all this is as naught. Whatever confidence Judge 
Edmonds may have had in the coolness and judgment of 
his friend, the latter gentleman's statement regarding 
the doubt existing here, should have sufficed to lead him 
to caution. But, this out of the question, I can not con- 
ceive how any thing could have weighed an iota against the 
glaring internal evidences in ' The Eventful Nights ' noted 
above, as so plainly indicating that it could not be a nar- 
ration of facts — that ' the wayfaring men, though fools, 
could not err therein.' 

" The grammatical errors that have crept into the article 
during the last six months, I propose to say nothing about ; 
but I conceive it to be proper to remark, that the title 
which I gave to the article was not ' Wonderful Revela- 
tions — The Eventful Nights,' etc., nor ' Wonderful but 
True ; or, The Eventful Nights,' etc., into which it has been 
variously altered by other hands, but simply, ' The Event- 
ful Nights of August 20th and 21st.' F. C. Ewer. 

" San Francisco, Feb. 7, 1855." 

That the above letter should enter quite fully into par- 
ticulars, and appear to some unnecessarily long, seemed 
to be proper from the fact that it would probably be read 
by many, who had never seen nor heard of " The Event- 
ful Nights," and who knew nothing of the circumstances 
connected with the fiction. With regard to a few repeti- 
tions, which will doubtless meet the eye of the reader 
below, it should be borne in mind, also, that the several 



74 SEQUEL TO "THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS," ETC. 

papers which make up this article were penned at differ 
ent times, and addressed to different sets of readers. 

I understand that the fiction, to which the above letter 
relates, has been considered, by some, as bearing a close 
similarity to " Facts in the case of M. Yaldemar," by 
Edgar Allan Poe. Indeed, after I had published a fiction 
entitled " The Great Order of The Cave," as a handmaiden 
to " The Eventful Nights," (the latter taking in its range 
the whole heavens, and the former the whole earth,) 
an ably edited journal of this city, The Wide West, inti- 
mated that I was evidently aspiring to be the " Poe of the 
Pacific." 

It is proper for me to state, that after I had prepared 
the first part of the fiction and a portion of the second, a 
friend, to whom I read what I had written, remarked to 
me, that it bore resemblance, in some respects, to one of 
Poe's papers. I was rather surprised, but requested her 
to say nothing more, since I preferred to finish the fiction 
before I heard or read any thing which might influence me, 
even unconsciously to myself. It is a melancholy admis- 
sion for me to make, perhaps, but the truth is, I had never 
read any thing of Poe's, save " The Raven " and " The 
Bells." So soon as I had completed "The Eventful 
Nights," I purchased his entire works, and read the article 
to which allusion has been made above. There were 
some three or four points of similarity between Poe's 
" Valdemar " and " The Eventful Nights," it is true, but 



SEQUEL TO " THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS," ETC. 75 

any reader who has perused both can not but have seen, 
that the few respects in which the two bore resemblance 
to each other, were, so far as my article is concerned, of 
very slight moment, as compared with the important 
respects in which they utterly differed. The gist of Poe's 
article consisted in the fact that, through the process of 
Mesmerizing, which was attempted in articulo mortis as 
an experiment, Valdemar's soul still remained attached 
to the body after the latter was dead. In the case of 
" The Eventful Nights," on the contrary, Lane died a 
natural death, described his sensations through spiritualism, 
and announced to us the condition of the great Future. 

Finding, however, that — although at a far distance in 
the rear of Poe's — my mind was apt to run in a similar 
train of thought, I considered it as absolutely essential 
for me to read all that he had ever written, in order not 
to meet hiim even in unimportant particulars, in any 
fiction that I might write subsequently. The reader may 
therefore judge of my surprise, on finding myself charged 
with precisely that which 1 most desired to avoid. 

So many interesting facts and letters had collected 
around " The Eventful Nights," that in order to preserve 
those which had not already been lost or destroyed, and 
to put them into a compact form, I gathered them into a 
private volume for my library, believing, moreover, that 
such a volume would be entertaining to my relatives and 
more intimate friends. 



76 SEQUEL TO "THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS," ETC. 

Among other thing3 in the book is a paper showing 
the analytical and synthetical process of my mind during 
the writing of the article ; which I prepared under the 
conviction that the volume would not be complete, unless 
it contained a recounting of the motives which led me to 
write the fiction, and a history, so to spea]j, of its concep- 
tion and composition. 

I have been advised by a number of friends — one or 
two of whom, on reading the paper, recognized the pro- 
cess of mind recounted, (having been kind enough to sit 
patiently through my " calls " and allow me to " talk at " 
them, before writing the fiction) — I have been advised, I 
say, by these and several others to extract the paper from 
the volume and lay it before the public. Members of 
that peculiar species of bores who can get along much 
better if they utter their thoughts aloud, half to them- 
selves and half to some one else, while arranging an ar- 
gument or conceiving a fiction, will understand well what 
I intend to imply by the somewhat colloquial phrase 
" talk at." 

The pronoun in the first person is necessarily repeated 
innumerable times in the paper. While there would be 
nothing objectionable in this, so long as the article re- 
mained private and open to the perusal of my relatives 
and friends only, I can not, of course, but feel that in pre- 
senting it to the world, I lay myself open to a charge of 
egotism. But recent events have called " The Eventful 
Nights " so prominently before the public, that I am not 



SEQUEL TO "THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS," ETC. 77 

sure but that it would be advisable for me to explain 
myself even more fully than I have done in the letter 
given above, particularly since it seems to be believed by 
many in the States, who did not credit " The Eventful 
Nights " as a narrative of facts, that I wrote it while in a 
trance, or under the influence of opium, or something of 
that sort. It is to satisfy such, as well as to explain my- 
self fully, once and for all, that I have decided to under- 
go the opprobrium of a charge of egotism, and follow 
the advice of my friends, by giving extracts from the 
paper above alluded to, as contained among the manu- 
scripts in my private volume. The article is entitled : 

THE COMPOSITION 

OF 

THE EYENTEUL NIGHTS OE AUGUST 20 AO 21: 

SHOWING THE ANALYTICAL AND SYNTHETICAL PROCESS DURING 
THE WRITING OF THE ARTICLE. 

I freely confess, that the idea of preparing the present 
paper was suggested by an article of Edgar A. Poe's, en- 
titled " The Philosophy of Composition," in which he 
describes the modus of construction, which ended in the 
production of " The Raven." 

I have for years — I may say from early boyhood — been 
in the habit of watching the operations and changes of my 
mind. I could sit down and trace most of the actions of 
my life — important as well as unimportant — to the 
motives and combinations of motives from which they 



78 SEQUEL TO "THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS," ETC. 

sprang, and the operations of my mind prior to and dur- 
ing the composition of " The Eventful Nights," having a 
bearing upon that article, are so vivid in my memory, that 
I can lay them bare to whomsoever the exposure may 
promise entertainment. 

In his " Philosophy of Composition," Poe says : 

"I have often thought how interesting a magazine paper might be 
written by any author who would — that is to say, who could — detaiL 
step by step, the process by which any of his compositions attained 
its ultimate point of completion. "Why such a paper has never been 
given to the world, I am much at a loss to say — but, perhaps, the autor- 
ial vanity has had more to do with the omission than any other cause. 
Most writers — poets in especial — prefer having it understood that 
they compose by a species of fine frenzy — an ecstatic intuition — and 
would positively shudder at letting the public take a peep behind the 
scenes, at the elaborate and vacillating crudities of thought — at the 
true purposes seized only at the last moment — at the innumerable 
glimpses of idea that arrived not at the maturity of full view — at the 
fully matured fancies discarded in despair as unmanageable — at the 
cautious selections and rejections — at the painful erasures and inter- 
polations — in a word, at the wheels and pinions — the tackle for 
scene-shifting — the step-ladders and demon-traps — the cock's feathers, 
the red paint and black patches which, in ninety-nine cases out of the 
hundred, constitute the properties of the literary Mstrio" 

Although this was suggested by Poe's " Philosophy of 
Composition," the mental process which I used in the pre- 
paration of " The Eventful Nights" was by no means 
suggested by Poe, since (I am ashamed to confess) the 
article was entirely written before I read Poe's works. 
But the analogy which existed between Poe's process of 
mind in writing " The Raven," and my own in writing 
" The Eventful Nights," was so striking, and Poe's article 
interested me so much, that I determined for once wittingly 
to act upon his hint — follow in his footsteps and record 



SEQUEL TO *' JHE EVENTFUL NIGHTS," ETC. 79 

my own mental operations, as he had recorded his, in the 
belief that, as the " Philosophy of Composition" had been 
entertaining to me, this might not be without interest to 
some others. 

* * * % * * 

In casting about for a subject, my great aim was origi- 
nality. I determined to write nothing — rather than follow 
in the footsteps of another. I have no sympathy for those 
would-be authors who run about to ring the thousandth 
change where nine hundred and ninety -nine have been rung 
already. Give me vileness with originality rather than 
respectable triteness. The former has at least something 
to recommend it — the latter nothing. 

While searching for a subject, I remembered a lecture 
which I had delivered before the Sacramento Mercantile 
Library Association in June, 1851 — the subject of which 
was " The Universalities of Nature." In it I had stated 
that there were certain conditions in nature underlying it 
and running up through all things. ' There were Motion — 
Forms — Harmony ■ — Connection — Beauty — The Arch — 
and Eternity. So that the sentence by which we may 
describe the universe is " Connected and beautiful forms 
moving harmoniously in arches through all eternity." I 
could not but feel that there was some originality in the 
lecture — at least, I had never seen the same thoughts in 
print nor heard them from the lips of others. It suggested 
itself to me that what I had said in the lecture was but a 
part of the system which I had believed, and which I might 
develop clearly by a little thought. And at first I had an 
idea of presenting that system to the public. It would 
be new, and might at least satisfy some who were in doubt 
as to what they should believe. But although I much 



80 SEQUEL TO " THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS," ETC, 

desired to publish it, I could not but feel that it was of 
too metaphysical and dry a character to attract the atten- 
tion of the general reader. 

For the most complete success I should adopt some 
subject which was very prominently before the community 
as a matter of discussion, and combine originality with 
that. 

At the same time it struck me that no writer had ever 
carried a soul through the gates of death and into the re- 
gions beyond — that no one had ever described what maybe 
the sensations and thoughts of a dying man from the time 
when he ceases to speak — his experience immediately 
after death, and the strange condition of affairs to which 
the departed spirit may first awake. Here, at least, was 
an attractive and — what was of all importance — untrodden 
field before me, with all the breadth that I could desire. 
I determined in an instant to enter upon it, but at the 
same time I did not wish to give up the idea of presenting 
my system of former belief to the public, for the good of 
whom it might concern ; and I immediately saw that I 
could combine the two, and at the same time gain another 
point, by interweaving a subject which was agitating men's 
minds to a remarkable degree — the subject of spiritualism. 

These thoughts passed through my mind in about one 
fiftieth of the time it has taken the reader to peruse them. 

I determined, therefore, to write an article, in which I 
would describe a dying man, who should converse with me 
up to the time when his tongue should cease to act, and 
give me the remainder of his experience of death, together 
with a description of that to which he was awakening, by 
means of spiritual manifestations. My lecture and former 
system of belief could then come from him as communi- 
cations, with a temporary effect upon the reader's mind, 






SEQUEL TO "THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS," ETC. 81 

arising from the fact of its having apparently all the au- 
thority of an announcement from the mighty spirit land. 
I foresaw that my great difficulty would be to create in 
imagination a state of things — a physique, so to speak — 
for the world after death, which should be entirely original, 
totally different from the condition of affairs surrounding 
us here — as totally different as is the spirit from the body 
—but which at the same time would not be impossible. 
Feeling confident, however, that when it should, become 
necessary for me to describe such a state of things, I could 
in some way, I knew not how, accomplish the desideratum 
to my satisfaction, I gave little thought to it at the time. 
The article would depend for its success upon the ex- 
cellence of two distinct effects — first, that to be produced 
from a description of death ; second, that to be produced by 
the development of a new and complete theory of the In- 
finite God, his works, and the connection between his works 
and himself. The latter was somewhat metaphysical, and 
I foresaw that it would be necessary for me to bring to 
bear what of ability was within me so to attract the interest 
of the general reader to the first half, as to induce him to 
read the last half, which would not otherwise be perused 
by him. At the same time I felt that however much the 
first half might attract for the moment, the real value of 
the article would depend almost entirely upon the origi- 
nality and consistency of the last half. 

Meanwhile, I had enough to do to succeed in bringing 
about the effect of the article by carrying the man through 
death; and I approached with determination the more 
minute portions of my work. 

The first point that arose was, what should be the cha- 
racter of the recital ? — should it bear about it the fictitious 
air, or not % The answer was clear. For effect's sake, it 



82 SEQUEL TO "THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS," ETC. 

should by all means be written as a narrative. The great 
point that I was to bear in mind was, therefore, a combi 
nation of probability with originality. The next question 
was, should the party whose dying is to be described, be 
an acquaintance of mine or a stranger to me 1 For ob- 
vious reasons, which will appear from a perusal of " The 
Eventful Nights," I decided that the effect would be 
heightened were the fictitious character represented as a 
stranger to me. How then was I to know that he was in 
a dying condition ? The most probable way was through 
a note sent to me by him. At first, I thought the note 
should be brought by a little boy ; but it struck me the 
reader would be apt to be rather more interested in a 
little girl, as the more delicate of the two, and I promptly 
adopted the latter. It was at this point that I determined 
to relieve the article from its sombre cast, and to add 
interest to it, by weaving a thread of pathos through its 
entire length. The father must be in indigent circum- 
stances. The little girl must be in want. A wife would 
be in the way, and would complicate matters too much. 
The little daughter would be the sole companion of the 
dying man. Although poor, he must be educated, for he 
had important truths to acquaint me with. He must live 
in some cheap tenement on the outskirts of the city. 

But as the article opened before me in this condition, I 
did not fail to see that it would be little else than an 
enormous lie. And for a day or two I gave up all thoughts 
of writing it. It struck me, however, that it might be 
made the means of good, provided I could make spiritu- 
alism a very prominent element in it, and so write it as 
to deceive at first, but to appear very evidently, on a 
second and more careful perusal, to be the argument 
reductio ad absurdum, to be applied to spiritualism. It 



SEQUEL TO "THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS," ETC. 83 

might awaken the eyes of some to the fact that they had 
been in the habit of accepting testimony touching the new 
doctrines, with too little thought. It might show them to 
how great a degree they were anxious to believe, rather 
than properly to search for the truth. 

I resumed the matter again, and decided not only to 
make the whole paper the reductio ad absurdum, but to 
leave concealed improbabilities in the article which would 
be so great as to amount very nearly, if not quite, to 
impossibilities. 

This suggested to me the self-moving compass, an 
account of which appears in the early part of the story. 
The house, too, where the scene occurred, should be near 
others, and yet no neighbors should visit the dying man 
to furnish him with any thing to eat, or in fact to offer the 
slightest humane attention. It would not be proper to 
locate the scene upon a lot where a tenement stood, lest 
the owner or occupant should object. I thought of select- 
ing my own lot, south-west corner of Sacramento and 
Hyde streets. But it was too near town, and many might 
remember that there was no house there. For while 
keeping in mind the necessity of improbabilities, I did not 
wish to sacrifice the verisimilitude of the article, upon 
which in no small degree depended its success. I then 
decided upon a location in the vicinity of Yerba Buena 
Cemetery, believing that if I could conceal any appearance 
of effort in locating the scene there, the solemnity of the 
place would have a slight effect upon the mind of the 
redder, the cause of which would not be noted by him at 
the time. For success, I depended in no small degree 
upon the number, rather than the intensity of the effects, 
which I should thus seek to produce prior to the climax 
of the fiction. I consulted a map at Wainwright & Ran- 



84 SEQUEL TO " THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS," ETC. 

dall's office, and selected a lot on McAllister street, (facing 
the cemetery,) upon which there was no tenement. 

The question then arose — "Why should Lane send for 
me, rather than any one else ? It now struck me, that, 
from the importance of the information to be gained from 
him, the reader would think it natural that the spirits 
should desire its publication, that they should acquaint 
Lane (who of course must be a believer in spiritualism) 
with the fact that he was to be the medium of presenting 
to the world important information, and instruct him to 
send for an editor, or some one who had access to the 
columns of a paper. As I have said, I had been the sub- 
ject of some little remark in 1852 from my connection 
with the spiritualists, having been considered as weak- 
headed enough to believe in the new doctrines. It would 
not be improbable that he, being a spiritualist, had heard 
of me, and if he were represented as unacquainted person- 
ally with any editor, it would be the most natural thing 
in the world for him to send for me. Here the idea that 
the spirits would know of his decision, and that they might 
be represented to use the compass to endeavor to com- 
municate to me the fact I was to go out in a south-west 
direction to Lane's house, occurred to me. 

The sympathies of the reader must be gradually awak- 
ened for the little girl by slight circumstances, and must 
be made eventually to cluster strongly around her. To 
begin with, she must hunt me up in this great city. She 
must be old enough to be able to go upon such an errand, 
and yet too young to render her father any material 
assistance in his sickness. She must persevere in the 
search for me, but not find my whereabouts until about 
dusk, when the little one must hasten back, through the 
darkness, over the lonesome hills, to her poor dying father 



SEQUEL TO " THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS," ETC. 85 

— to her far-away home. There would be no apparent 
effort in this — it was natural, and at the same time it 
would tend gradually to awaken the sympathies of the 
reader. 

The next thought that I had about the matter was, that 
it would by no means be proper for me to go out to the 
house, and allow the man to die like a dog, without assist- 
ance. Besides, I should have witnesses, and one of these 
should clearly be a physician. Some little skill was to 
be exercised in keeping from the reader the object of my 
visit to Lane's house, and at the same time letting drop 
casually a sufficient motive for my being accompanied 
while there with friends. The necessity of witnesses 
seemed, however, to be clear. Accordingly, I opened the 
matter to , and , told them the plan of my arti- 
cle, and asked them if they had any objection to my using 
their names in it. They said that they had none, and I 
determined to make them my companions in the fictitious 
adventures. Subsequently, however, while writing the 
article, I changed my mind with regard to this, as I saw 
that it would give the paper too near an approach to a lie. 
I rejected real characters for companions, and selected the 
fictitious titles of "Mr. H." and " Dr. L.," believing that 
the reader would say, " Well, if this were true — if Mr. E. 
were sincere in this matter, of course he would have given 
the names in full of parties to whom we could refer." 

My next point was — How should the whole article be 
planned, to be the argumentum reductio ad absurdum? 
Brief thought enabled me to decide upon adopting the 
grounds of the spiritualists — that the " odic fluid " is gene- 
rated in the human system — that all things conduct it — 
that it is the necessary condition to interlie between mind 
and matter to erable the former to will the latter into 



86 SEQUEL TO " THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS," ETC. 

motion — and then show to what an absurdity this theory 
would lead, by representing Lane's corpse, which of 
course is matter, as thoroughly charged by us with the 
fluid, during our final experiments ; as bursting open the 
top of the coffin while we were bearing him in the midst 
of a crowd (attracted to the spot) towards his grave in 
Yerba Buena ; as rising (of course by means of the willing 
of hosts of departed spirits) — as rising slowly in a hori- 
zontal position, while we stood with the coffin in our arms 
gazing upward at it ; as changing gradually in its upward 
course from the horizontal to a perpendicular position ; 
and as finally (its grave-clothes fluttering in the wind) 
entering a small white cloud, which in its course from the 
east across the heavens bears it out of our sight into the 
western horizon. This plan I adhered to without a thought 
of changing it, until the second part was nearly written, 
when I became convinced that it would not be an appro- 
priate and dignified conclusion to that which preceded — 
that with it the paper, as a work of art, would not be con- 
sidered as successful. Acting upon this belief I drew my 
pen through that portion of the conclusion which I had 
already written, and wrote that conclusion which appeared 
in print — giving (in accordance with the theory of the 
spiritualists) Lane's soul that power of motion over his 
dead body, which, from what preceded, would not strike 
the reader as being equally ridiculous as impossible, 
while at the same time it was a power which common 
sense and the universal experience of mankind teach the 
soul does not and can not have. This conclusion was also 
selected, from the fact that it would put a natural and 
complete close to the article. For if Lane were repre- 
sented as still having the power to commune with us, the 
close of the- article would have the appearance of depend- 



SEQUEL TO " THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS," ETC. 87 

ing entirely upon my will, and the reader might still 
desire and expect further communications at some subse- 
quent time. 

But to resume. I now reviewed the work I had gone 
over. The climax of the fiction was to be the announce- 
ment that Lane, during the process of dying and entering 
the other world, should, through spiritual "tippings," give 
us his sensations, and describe to us that to which he was 
awakening. The article must be toned gradually up until 
this point was gained. The nature of the climax was to 
be entirely concealed prior to its announcement, while at 
the same time such hints were to be dropped as would 
arouse the reader's wonder and curiosity. Although the 
climax would occur early in the fiction, comparatively, the 
reader would not be satisfied, as he would still wish to 
read on and learn what was the experience of Lane while 
dying, and what he saw after death. Had the article been 
different in this respect, I should not have attempted to write 
it, since I could have anticipated nothing else than failure. 
The article would be in two distinct parts, each complete 
in itself — the first containing the story of Lane's death, 
the second, the theory of Deity, Here and Hereafter. 
The latter would depend for its success upon originality 
of idea, strangeness, clearness, and beauty of diction. The 
whole was a hazardous experiment, and the least I could 
do was to try. 

I had now proceeded sufficiently far to take pen in hand. 
But a difficulty met me at the threshold. Of course, I 
desired that the article should be read. It should be so 
commenced, therefore, as strongly to attract the reader's 
attention at the very outset. The first line should be 
such, that if any one glanced at it, he would be likely to 
read the whole sentence. This should be so written as to 



88 SEQUEL TO " THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS," ETC. 

entice him into reading the second, which should onlj 
awaken his attention the more ; so that the first paragraph 
would perhaps cause him to settle himself in his chair for 
at least a page or so. 

Accordingly, for my opening sentence I penned the fol- 
lowing, namely: 

" I am about to undertake a task — here in the silence of this room 
— to which I feel impelled by a combination of circumstances, such 
as, I believe, never surrounded mortal man before." 

Having satisfied myself that this would have the de- 
sired effect, I endeavored to awaken the reader the more 
to a wish to peruse what was to succeed, by the follow- 
ing, namely : 

" I am hurried to its accomplishment — to the unburdening of my 
mind from certain strange intelligence — not only on account of an 
express order which I have received, the nature and particulars of 
which will more fully appear below, but because I feel that I can 
only relieve my mind from its insufferable weight by laying before 
the public the occurrences of the last two nights." 

Thinking that these two sentences would accomplish 
my purpose — that I was perhaps sure of the reader's 
attention for at least a page or so, I decided so to write 
that page — to give the reader such glimmerings merely 
of some strange important matter that was to follow, as 
to induce him fairly to compose himself to accompany 
where I should lead him, even though it were through the 
drier parts of my recital. 

I fancied myself, as the narrator, seated in Lane's room, 
the description of which sprang into my mind at once 
from I know not what source. I fancied myself as having 
just taken my pen after the occurrences, to write the very 



SEQUEL TO "THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS," ETC. 89 

article which I was about to write. I described my posi- 
tion and imagined sensations, keeping in view the fact 
that I was not to preexpose any of the important points 
of the article. In this condition I wrote the page, (about 
three pages of manuscript.) I was, in fact, seated in my 
own room. But so vivid were my feelings, that I actually 
felt as though I had witnessed the occurrences I was about 
to describe. I heard my own loud breathings as I stated, 
and involuntarily turned round with a shudder towards 
my bed with a feeling which some may understand when 
I say it was akin to a mad wish that I might see the body 
of a man lying there, lifeless and grim. I should say that 
during this time, I kept in mind that I should so write as 
to lead the reader to suppose perhaps that a murder had 
been committed. I imagined the child seated on a box at 
the foot of my bed behind me, and as finally stealing to 
me, putting her arms around my neck, and saying, in sim- 
ple tones and language : 

" "What are you writing, sir ? Come with mo ; I am very lonesome. 
Come to father and make him talk." 

I wrote on that — "I kissed her upon her fair white fore- 
head and said : ' Hush child ! Father will not speak to us 
any more to-night. You shall go with me to-morrow, 
and we'll take father with us ' " — when I burst into tears 
myself. I wrote, that " I led her back to her seat and 
turned quickly — for the tears were gushing to my eyes," 
when I threw down the pen, unable from excitement to 
write any more that night. I could not but feel satisfied 
that I had attained the effect desired ; for if I (foolishly 
enough, it must be confessed) had been moved to tears, it 
was reasonable to suppose that the reader's mere interest 
would be excited sufficiently to induce him to accompany 



90 SEQUEL TO " THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS," ETC. 

me over the commencement proper of the article, which 
was now about to follow, and so far beyond, that he would 
begin to rise towards the climax with me, and not leave 
me until he had finished at least the first half of the 
article. 

The next evening I sat down to my work to pen the com- 
mencement proper of the fiction. The reader will see that 
there remains little else for me to say, save to record a few 
incidents that occurred during the writing of the paper, and 
to note one or two other changes in the minutiae of the plan 
at first decided upon, which occurred to me while com- 
posing. 

I need not say why the dash at the scientific was made 
at the commencement proper of the recital. I need not 
say that the parenthesis occurring in the first sentence of 
that commencement, namely, " I will not (at least upon this 
occasion) go into the rationale of spiritualism," was insert- 
ed to gain a slight effect upon the reader's mind — as 
though I had said, " Well, I can not stop now to do this, 
but as I am thoroughly committed to the new doctrines, I 
may as well, after publishing one paper, undertake the 
matter seriously." Such facts will be sufficiently clear 
without a hint from me. In addition to the reasons given 
above for the insertion of the spirit-guided compass, I felt 
that it would act upon the sentiment of the superstitious in 
the reader, already prepared from what had gone before 
to be awakened, and would, at the same time, be to him, 
should he review the article carefully after reading it once) 
a most positive evidence of its fictitious character. The 
tea-poy, statuette, cross, etc., were actually in my room 
as I described them. The name of "Little Janie" was 
adopted principally from the fact that there was no strain- 
ing for effect in it. 



SEQUEL TO " THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS," ETC. 91 

When the article was advanced to the point where the 
narrator and his friends had reached the house, a difficulty 
occurred to me which I had not thought of before. I saw 
that it was necessary for me to write in four different styles, 
namely, first, the style of the narrative, which from the fact 
that it was represented as written late at night and hastily, 
should have an air of simplicity and carelessness about it ; 
second, the style of Lane while living, serious and im- 
pressive; third, the style of the spirit who announces 
what is to be done ; and, fourth, the style of Lane while in 
the spirit land. For the style of the unknown spirit, I 
affected short disconnected sentences. For the style of 
Lane after death, I affected — if I may use that convenient 
and expressive term — the " hyfalutin'." But the first part 
of the paper succeeded so fully in permanently deceiving 
large numbers, that I became alarmed, and concluded to 
leave the internal evidence of the fictitious nature of the 
article more apparent in the last half, by attempting no 
disguises of style whatever. The difficulty of accounting 
for my exact repetition of Lane's words, was easily over- 
come by representing Lane — in view of the importance of 
our interview — as instructing us to note down upon the 
spot all that was said or done. 

Lane's first conversation with me was inserted, that I 
might have an opportunity of showing the reader that the 
narrator, after investigation, had not been a victim of 
spiritualism — that therefore his narration was at least 
worthy of respectful consideration ; and that I might also 
have an opportunity of preparing the disbelieving reader 
for what was to follow, by presenting what I thought a 
sensible argument, going to show that the spiritualist 
theory was not impossible in the nature of things, nay, 
that it might be considered as actually probable, since it 



92 SEQUEL TO " THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS," ETC 

announced no greater change in the order of things than 
science shows has already occurred many a time upon the 
earth. My object, as will be remembered, was to make 
the reader believe the article was true until he reached 
the denouement, or until he had carefully looked over 
the fiction a second time. 

Without wishing to reflect upon myself as inclined to 
the "hyfalutin' " style, I would state that by all means the 
most difficult part of the article for me to write, was the 
narrative, that portion which, in fact, would seem to be the 
simplest. This was written several times before I was 
satisfied with it. Next to the narrative in difficulty of 
composition, were the disconnected remarks of Lane just 
before the spirit parted from the body, which were re- writ- 
ten three or four times ; and although I finally accepted the 
last version, I was by no means satisfied with it. 

My aim in the death-scene was originality. And yet I 
saw, of course, that it would be folly for me to run coun- 
ter to the knowledge and universal experience of man- 
kind. I was forced, therefore, to represent Lane's senses as 
growing dimmer and dimmer, until he could not see and 
could scarcely hear. I felt that if I could once get him 
thoroughly dead, I could then enter upon a field where I 
could range at will in search of originality. 

I would state that in order to write as effective a de- 
scription of the dying of Lane as was possible for me, I 
lay down upon my bed one evening at eight o'clock, put 
out the light, and fancied myself going through the pro- 
cess of dying. My imagination became so excited, that 
in less than five minutes I sprang up alarmed, and had to 
light the lamp, feel my pulse, and look round a little to 
convince myself that I had not actually died. The next 
day I wrote the dying scene as it appeared in print. 



SEQUEL TO " THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS," ETC. 93 

Consumption was the disease which I selected for Lane, 
as being that around which Melancholy and Beauty hover 
as attendant angels. 

When I had carried Lane through death, it struck me 
that the process of eliciting information by putting ques- 
tions and receiving answers from him through " tips " of 
the table, would be so tedious as to be impracticable ; 
and I decided to represent him as willing the hand of his 
corpse to grasp a pencil and write what he wished to com- 
municate. For effect's sake, however, I so altered this, 
that his hand should grasp mine, which should be repre- 
sented as holding the pencil and writing a question ; and 
I therefore was further urged to endeavor to make the 
scene at the death sufficiently impressive to warrant, in 
the eyes of the reader, my writing the question, instead 
of uttering it aloud. 

I was engaged in writing the first half during the lei- 
sure hours of about a month. I did not, at any time, ad- 
vance more than a page a day. 

The main difficulty in the last half, was so to commence 
it as to awaken the reader's attention once more after a 
month's delay, by suggesting to his mind what had pre- 
ceded, without repeating myself — to awaken, again, his 
sympathy for " Little Janie," and to remind him of pre- 
cisely what information had been promised from Lane, that 
he might not expect too much. 

My lecture was altogether too long to be inserted as a 
communication, so I condensed it into two pages, and pub- 
lished it in that shape. 

I was occupied but a brief space of time in conceiving 
what I was to write as a description of the condition of 
tilings in which Lane found himself after death. Several 
ideas suggested themselves to me, and the questions which 



94 SEQUEL TO " THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS," ETC. 

I put to myself, were : Has this been thought of or pub- 
lished before ? If so, it was rejected. Would any one 
be likely to think of this % If so, I rejected it. When I 
struck upon something which I thought could not but be 
original, the remaining questions which I asked myself, 
were : Is this state of things as utterly different from this 
world as is spirit from body 1 Is it impossible, to say 
the least for it, to be true ? Having satisfied myself on 
these points, I proceeded to write again. The spirit-land 
should be represented as composed of souls and their 
ever-varying out-creations. I endeavored to attack mate- 
rialism by showing that it was possible to conceive of 
spirit as being without shape — as not occupying time to 
pass through space. I endeavored to analyze Infinity and 
show the reader what a vast difference there was between 
the Infinite God, and man, though his life were infinite in 
duration. I endeavored to show that it was folly for us 
to seek to learn (admitting the spiritualist theory to be 
true) whether or not the souls of our friends were happy. 
I endeavored to make my whole theory harmonious and 
consistent in all its parts — which can not be said of spirit- 
ualism, f endeavored to make the answers purporting 
to come from the spirit-land contain something of real 
moment, and not the insane generalities about progress, 
and the ridiculous materialisms of " spheres and circles," 
which we are in the habit of receiving through the instru- , 
mentality of the so-called mediums. In fact, I was de- 
termined to make Lane say something which, if true, would 
be of importance to the world. 

I was occupied in writing the second half, about five or 
six evenings. The selection of a title gave me no little 
annoyance. 

When the article was finished, I found that it was com- 



SEQUEL TO " THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS," ETC. 95 

plete in all respects, except the disposition of Little 
Janie. 

To have represented her as growing up under my care, 
and as becoming a staid matron with six bouncing child- 
ren, or any thing after that style, was impossible from the 
nature of things, and would have been simply ridiculous. 
What was there for me to do but to kill her and so put an 
entire completion to the fiction'? Accordingly, for the 
November number I wrote " Flown." It was intended 
to be a reverie, in which my thoughts were traced as I sat 
in my room immediately after her death, while she was 
lying in her little bed in a room opening into mine. It 
may strike some readers as an ineffectual attempt at the 
pathetic. It may be so, but all that I can say is, it was 
written without effort, and was the dearest flower of my 
soul, torn up by the roots and offered to the world. If it 
is rejected of all, I shall still love it tenderly. 



In the New-York Herald of the 14th March, appeared 
the following rejoinder from Judge J. W. Edmonds to my 
letter given above, namely : 

"Letter From Judge Edmonds. 

" No. 85 Chambers street, March 14, 1854. 
" To the Editor of the Herald : 

" Your paper of the 12th contains a letter from San 
Francisco, with the signature of F. C. Ewer, from which 
it appears that I was fool enough to receive as true an 
article under his own name, published in the Pioneer, a 
monthly magaizne, edited by him, and which purported 
on its face to be the relation of facts within his own know 
ledge. 



96 SEQUEL TO "THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS," ETC. 

"It is true I did so receive it. But I also received a letter 
from a gentleman of San Francisco, assuring me of its 
truth. I learned on inquiry that Mr. E. had an office 
under the General Government. Mr. Lecount, one of the 
publishers of the Pioneer, at that time in this city, and 
one or two others who professed to know him, gave the 
assurance that Mr. Ewer was a gentleman utterly incapa- 
ble of perpetrating such a fraud as that would be if not 
the truth. Mr. Ewer himself sent to me, by a gentleman 
direct from San Francisco, a copy of his magazine, with- 
out the slightest intimation on his part that the articles 
were otherwise than what they professed to be, namely, 
the relation of an actual fact ; but that, on the contrary, he 
had said to his messenger, when interrogated by him, ' Do 
you think I would publish a lie under my own name V 
And twice, through a medium in whose communications I 
had been in the habit of placing a good deal of confi- 
dence, I received messages which tended in the same direc- 
tion. 

" It was under these circumstances that I trusted in the 
truthfulness of Mr. Ewer ; and now it would seem — if 
this letter to you is genuine — that I was gulled and im 
posed upon by a fabrication. 

" If the object of the device, and all the pains taken 
to carry it out, was to impose on my confidence, it has 
been successful. 

" If the object was to show me the dangers of spiritual 
intercourse, and how liable we are to be deceived by false 
or fabricated communications, it was quite unnecessary ; 
for I long ago learned that, and have earnestly, once and 
again, given utterance to a warning against that danger. 

" If the object was to give me the pain of learning that a 
gentleman occupying a public station, and appearing be 



SEQUEL TO " THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS," ETC. 97 

fore the world as the editor of a magazine having some 
pretension to a standing in our literature, was unworthy 
the confidence I had reposed in his word, it was equally- 
unnecessary ; for I had already learned the public use he 
had made of a private letter which I had written him in 
the confidence which I hope will always obtain among 
gentlemen, and it was not demanded that he should super- 
add to it the humiliation of proclaiming his own fraud. 

" If the purpose was to convince me that men having a 
fair exterior could still be otherwise than what they 
seemed, it was also unnecessary ; for I had not presided 
so long over a criminal court without learning something 
of the degradation to which the influence of evil passions, 
find a perverted education, may sink the fairest-seeming 
among us. 

" But if the purpose was to induce me to withhold all 
jonfidence in my fellow man, or all reliance upon spirit 
oommunion, it has signally failed. 

" I have been imposed upon many times in my life, and 
as I grow older, and the instances multiply around me, I 
am admonished to greater caution than was habitual with 
me in my more confiding years. But I can not yet with- 
hold all confidence in my fellow man, or in the testimony, 
on any subject, which may reach me through his instru- 
mentality. J. W. Edmonds.'^ 

The following letter from one W. J. Baner was also 
given immediately after Judge Edmonds', namely : 

" To the Editor of the Herald: 

" One or two facts in relation to E. C. Ewer's letter, pub- 
lished in Monday ? s Herald, should be stated, in justice to 
the spiritualists of this city. 



y» SEQUEL TO "THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS, ETC. 

" The first is, that with the exception of Judge Edmonds, 
and Mr. Toohey, the editor of the Christian Spiritualist, 
the fiction of Mr. Ewer was received with universal skep- 
ticism. This is shown by the fact that at a large confer- 
ence of spiritualists, held a few evenings after Mr. Ewer's 
fiction was published in this city, there was but one man 
possessed of sufficient credulity to manifest the slightest 
faith in this story, and this man was Mr. Toohey. 

" The next fact that should be mentioned is, that Judge 
Edmonds, though he has achieved a deservedly high posi- 
tion in this community, both as a man and a jurist, is by 
no means a Sir Oracle among spiritualists. Indeed, it is 
more true of spiritualists than of any other class of peo- 
ple in the world, that each individual is obliged, from the 
nature of the facts brought before him, to stand distinctly 
upon his own judgment, and to refuse positively to have 
his reputation for sanity or common sense placed upon the 
shoulders of any man, however high his reputation for 
sagacity or worldly wisdom. 

" If you will allow the above statements to go to the 
world through the medium of the Herald, you will greatly 
oblige Yours, truly, 

"New York, March 14, 1855. W. J. Baker." 

JVly response, sent to the Herald, was as follows, 
namely : 

"Reply to Judge Edmonds. 

" To the Editor of the Herald : 

" With your liberty, I desire to say a few words in re- 
sponse to the letters of Judge J. W. Edmonds and one 
W. J. Baner, (published in The Herald of the 20th March), 
having reference to me and to ' The Eventful Nights of 
August 20th and 21st.' 



SEQUEL TO " THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS," ETC. 99 

" It is perhaps folly for me to state so evident a fact, as 
that the Judge's letter is utterly wide of the controversy. 
He does not make the- slightest pretension to mest the 
real merits of the affair, at all. He incontinently packs 
up, without saying one word, and leaves the field. 

" Yes, it is even so ; — he has been weak enough to re- 
publish as true — as corroborative of his theory, a fiction 
from which the slightest analysis would have developed 
several impossibilities and numberless improbabilities — a 
fiction which is evidently an argument showing his own 
proposition to be absurd — a fiction which, even if it were 
not an argument against himself, contains a theory before 
which his own must fall ; and, to crown all, he has held 
solemn conversations with a fictitious^character, with 
whom, even if the tale were true, he could not, according 
to its statements, have held any communication whatever. 
Not one item does he deny, and the controversy is in fact 
closed. 

" But he is not utterly undeserving of praise in the affair. 
For it can not but be admitted that he has had the frank- 
ness to come out and acknowledge (humiliating though it 
may be) that he is in a corner. Frankness is a jewel 
Whether he could have taken any other step, is not, per 
haps, to be inquired into too closely. It is, one must con 
fess, no very pleasant admission for a man to be com- 
pelled to make, that, after having been for years upon the 
bench deciding upon the soundness or fallacy of argu- 
ments, he should have been so far led astray — he should 
have been ' fool enough,' to use his own phrase — to admit 
and re-publish an argument going decidedly to disprove 
the very proposition which he seeks to establish. Indeed, 
Mr. Editor, on the principle of not kicking a man when he 



100 SEQUEL TO " THE EVENTFUL NIGIITS," ETC. 

is down, I have no desire to do aught else than to com- 
mend the Judge to the kind sympathies of the public. 

"But what does this lame rejoinder of his amount to ? 
Why, finding himself in an inextricable predicament, he 
struggles to get out of his corner by explaining how it 
happened that he got in, and, under the circumstances, 
crying ' Mercy !' The ridiculousness of his pitiful situa- 
tion, would induce me, now that the controversy is 
virtually closed, to say no more ; but as his explanation 
contains several assertions, expressed and implied, which 
call for a flat denial from me, I am forced to the melan- 
choly resort of driving him out of his corner and from the 
last beam where he has a foothold. 

" His explanation appears to be that, first, he learned on 
undoubted authority, I was a truthful man, and incapable 
of publishing a fraud. I commend him to the same kind 
authorities still, and to that portion of my letter in the 
Herald of the 12th March, to which he has forgotten to 
allude, in which I stated, that I conceived I had a perfect 
right as a truthful man to propound a theory which I had 
never seen in print before, and which I believed might not 
be without interest to some — to hold up, even at a charge 
of arrogance, the result of an unaided mind on earth in 
contrast with a theory purporting to come from a world 
beyond the grave — to contrast a theory which is con- 
sistent in all its parts, and to say the least, not impossible, 
with a theory which contradicts itself, and therefore can 
not possibly be true. I believed I had a perfect right to 
weave that theory into a fiction, winch, as a whole, would 
be the argument reductio ad absurdum, to be applied 
against spiritualism, without subjecting myself to the 
charge of being a man regardless of the high dictates of 
truth.' It may be an evidence of unusual sagacity in the 



SEQUEL TO " THE ftVi-KT>crL NIGHTS," ETC. 101 

Judge, that he has not attempted to violate all common 
sense, by denying the truth of the above. But until he 
shall have done so, he must not expect me to exhibit an 
equal want of common sense with himself, by noticing 
further a mere assertion of his, which has already been 
fully answered. 

" His second explanation is, that I sent him a copy of the 
magazine by a gentleman direct from San Francisco, say- 
ing to that gentleman, ' Do you think I would publish a 
lie under my own name V My memory is tolerable, and 
it only serves me with the fact that I sent an exchange to 
Judge Edmonds, of the Sacred Circle, while the other ex- 
changes were preparing for the mail. But this is child's 
play. What could the Judge desire to establish, more 
than that I wished to have a magazine go direct to him 1 
If, in his agitation, he is anxious to excite sympathy for 
himself through this fact, I will give him the opportunity. 
I did direct a magazine to him, put it into the mail, and, 
of course, positively intended that it should reach him. 
But before I proceed further, let me in this connection 
make an extract from his letter : 

" 'If the object of the device, [says he,] and all the pains taken to 
carry it out, was to impose on my confidence, it has been successful.' 

I positively deny that there was any device on my part* 
I positively deny that I took any pains to deceive the 
Judge. I sent him the magazine and I had" a perfect 
right, either through private hands or through the mail, to 
place it beneath his eyes. The theory developed in it 
was utterly opposed to his, and I supposed it would be 
entertaining to him. I thought, of course, that he would, 
rea'd it with interest. But I gave the man credit for ordi- 
nary sagacity ; he had been ' for years upon the bench of 



102 SEQUEL TO "THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS," ETC. 

a criminal court,' and I was never more astonished in my 
life than when I received his letter announcing that he had 
been rash enough to publish the first half. Even then I 
supposed that when he should see the last half, he would 
certainly find out his error. But no, he completed his 
humiliation by re-publishing that also, and giving several 
communications, which he, forsooth, had received from the 
fictitious character, John F. Lane, who, as I have said 
above, even if the article were true, was represented as 
utterly beyond the reach of communicating with any one 
on earth. 

"But whether I or any one else did or did not send 
him the magazine, the Judge seems to forget, in his agi- 
tation, that it really makes no difference. Supposing, for 
the sake of argument, that I sent a magazine to him by a 
messenger direct, it will not help the matter for him, 
since he none the less blindly overlooked all the internal 
evidences of the fictitious character of the article, and 
disregarded the advice of his friends who cautioned him 
against it. 

" There is little else for me to state. The Judge re- 
marks, that ' if the object of the device [forsooth !] was to 
show me the dangers of spiritual intercourse, and how 
liable we are to be deceived by false or fabricated com- 
munications, it was unnecessary, as I had long ago learned 
the fact, and cautioned others in relation to it.' It is to 
be regretted that the Judge was not guided by the light 
of his experience. 

ft ' If,' says he, ' the object was to give me the pain of 
learning that a gentleman, etc., etc., was unworthy of con- 
fidence, it was unnecessary ; for I had already learned the 
public use he had made of my private letter to him, and 
it was not demanded that he should superadd to it the hu 



SEQUEL TO " THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS," ETC. 103 

miliation of publishing his own fraud.' As for making 
public use of a private letter, I would state that the Judge 
is misinformed. I have not allowed either his letter, or 
any copy of it, ever to leave my hands. I consider it 
equally sacred with a letter from my sister. If ' publish- 
ing my own fraud ' is not beneath the Judge to charge, 
after my first letter to the Herald, completely refuting it, 
(and still unanswered,) I assure him that I consider any 
response to it beneath me to make. 

" ' If,' says he, ' the purpose was to convince me that 
men may not be what they seem, it was unnecessary ; for 
I had not presided so long over a criminal court without 
learning something of the degradation to which the influ- 
ence of evil passions and a perverted education may sink 
the fairest-seeming amongst us.' His Honor grows face- 
tious : but really he reminds one a little of ' Patience 
on a monument, smiling at Grief.' He seems to intimate 
that he has seen such fellows as lam before at the bar of a 
criminal court. Oh, Judge — Judge ! I can not assert that 
this is another evidence that his Honor's mind is a little 
shaken from its balance, for my associations during life 
have not been very intimate with criminals ; but I will 
state that curiosity led me once to visit the Insane Asy 
lum at Stockton, in order to investigate somewhat the 
condition of the unfortunates placed there for a restoration 
of mental health, and really the Judge's condition calls up 
to my mind recollections of a most sad and unpleasant 
character. But admitting what he would intimate, it only 
makes the matter worse in his agitation, the further he goes 
For even if I were a man regardless of the dictates of truth, 
his Honor but admits that his experience has availed him 
naught. 

'"But if,' says he, ' the purpose was to induce me to 



104 SEQUEL TO "THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS," ETC. 

withhold all confidence in my fellow man, it has signally 
failed.' Ah, Judge ! it should teach you to have less con- 
fidence in yourself. 

" But with regard to all the - ifs,' I beg the Judge to 
bear in mind once again, that there were no intentions 
whatever on my part, for I sincerely assure him that I had 
not the slightest idea he would be ' fool enough' to re- 
publish ' The Eventful Nights of August 20th and 21st,' 

" If it would not be considered as arrogance in me to drop 
one little word of advice to him, I would say, that by far 
the sagest plan for him to have adopted, when he found 
himself m his corner, would have been to remain there, 
looking up with an air of unconcern, and when the laugh 
was over, and his agitation was calmed, he could have 
slipped quietly out, and gone on his way into obscurity, 
unnoticed by any one. 

" One word more, and then farewell. The world will 
hardly believe, Judge, that there are not truthful spirits 
enough among the ' spheres and circles' to tell you (if 
you have not sagacity enough to see it yourself) whether 
the next document you would gladly devour be genuine 
or not. Alas for that man who putteth not his own 
theory into practice ! 

" And now, one line for Mr. Baner. I am very ready to 
believe that large numbers of the New- York spiritualists 
saw the fictitious narrative of ' The Eventful Nights.' It 
would be a sad commentary on the acumen of many of 
my friends in that great city, if it were not so. More- 
over, were it not so, I should really be alarmed for fear 
that I had composed a downright enormous lie, and was 
unworthy of being regarded as a truthful man But if 
Mr. Baner will come to San Francisco, I will show him 
by letters from New- York, that he was misinformed with 



SEQUEL TO "THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS," ETC. 105 

regard to the fact that 'The Eventful Nights' was dis- 
credited by all there. But the most unfortunate affair of 
the whole is, that this man, Baner, should, now that the 
Judge is in his sad — his pitiful predicament, turn against 
him and seek to cast him overboard. Well may his Honor 
exclaim, ' Save me from my friends.' Why — why — - 
why — Mr. Baner, isn't Judge Edmonds a Sir Oracle of 
the spiritualists % F. C. Ewer. 

" P. S. — I notice that The Christian Spiritualist promises 
me a blast. It would be ungenerous in me not to allow 
the galled jades to wince. And so, without more remark, 
I touch my hat and retire from among their writhings, leav- 
ing them ' to settle it, somehow, among themselves.' 

" San Francisco, April 16, 1855. F. C. E." 

To conclude, I would remark, that on the 16th of April, 
the following brief communication appeared in the Daily 
Chronicle of this city, namely : 

" The Cock and Bull Story—' John F. Lane.' 

"Editors Chronicle : 

" It is a curious fact, if Mr. Ewer's 'John F. Lane' be 
fiction, that there did live and die, in our own day and 
generation, a real ' John F. Lane.' He was a young gen- 
tleman of distinguished ability and attainments, but impa- 
tient of distinction. He died by his own hand, during the 
Florida war. The following is an extract from the list of 
graduates of the Military Academy, published in 1850: 

" ' John F. Lane — Brevet Second Lieutenant of Artil- 
lery, July 1, 1828. Second Lieutenant Fourth Artillery, 
same date. Acting Assistant Professor of Mathematics, 
Military Academy, from August 31. 1828, to February 



106 SEQUEL TO "THE EVENTFUL NIGHTS," ETC. 

1, 1829. Assistant Quarter-Master from June, 1834, to 
May 17, 1835. Captain Second Dragoons, June 8, 1836. 
Colonel, commanding regiment Mounted Creek Volun- 
teers, serving in Florida war, from September 1, 1836, to 
October 19, 1836. Died October 19, 1836, at Fort 
Lorane, Florida.' 

"There, Messrs. Editors, is a veritable, genuine 'John 
F. Lane,' and no mistake. When Judge Edmonds sum- 
moned the spirit of 'J. F. L.,' who is authorized to say 
that the genuine John did not respond 1 A." 

Mr. Nisbitt has himself so neatly plunged the point of 
his penknife into this soap-bubble, that no further remark 
is required from me. Says he : 

" Oh ! there are lots of liars in the other world, so the 
spiritists tell us. What matters it whether the ' Cocklane 
Ghost' itself, or the ' spirit' of Baron Munchausen, or of the 
* genuine John,' trotted out and 'sold' this crazy Judge 
Edmonds? To adopt the sentiment of Lord Grizzle's 
excellent remark to Queen Dollalola, we may say : 

" Spirits ! — why, madam, 'tis all flummery — 
Ho made the spirits first and then he saw them.' " 



!7% 

h 

! Tf IIIWFIIL NM1I8, 



OR, THE 



FALLIBILITY OF " SPIRITUALISM" 



EXPOSED. 



BY F. C, EWER. 



NEW YORK: 
II . D A Y T ON, P U B L I S n E K, 

No. 79 J.GHX-STEEET. 
185G. 



^4 EDITIfll SflLB I® 3 MOfflS, 5TH fflfTIBS 1W READY.' f 

A NEW AND INTERESTING • (§) 
INTERPRETATION OF PROPHECY. &) 

Iff II 'f 1111111, 1 



OK 



THE MIGHTY CRASH 



OF 



EUROPE'S ROYAL AND PAPAL THRONES, 

ABOUT TO BE CAST DOWN BY THE 

liiiiiits if iii s 



BY REV. E. S. DAVfS. 



30® Pages, 1 61110. , Cloth. 

"And when he had cried, seven thunders uttered their voices. And 
when the seven thunders had uttered their voices, I was about to write." 
—Rev. x. 3, 4. 

Grouping in bold relief all the striking imagery and well-defined de- 
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the light of the mighty events now transpiring in Europe, as welt as that 
of philosophy, this book demonstrates — as no other book written does — 
the speedy, full and final overthrow of these powers; Li this event identi- 
fying the fall of the apocalyptic Babylon and the beginning of the mil- 
lennium. It sets in a clear light the relation of the present American 
movement to these august events. 

Th<e writer is a clergyman of rare abilities, who has devoted years to 
the study of this great subject, and this book may be considered as fin- 
ishing the mystery hitherto shrouding the great closing events of the age. 
The book contaius 300 16mo. pages, bound in cloth, price only tJU ce.it s. . 
Sent by mail, postage paid, for 60 cents, in postage stamps* 

II. DAYTON, Publisher. 

N,o. 7i) John Street, New York. 



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